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UNITED STATES OF AMERTCA.j 



Bl^lSrC^ C^PELLO 



J^ TRJ^G-EDY 



BEING IN COMPLETION OF THE 
FIRST VOLUME OF THE DRAMATIC SERIES 



LAUGHTON OSBORN 




/ Ct USHETV YORK 

/ 
MOORHEAD, SIMPSON & BOND 

1868 



.0 ^3E> f 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1868, by 

LAUGHTON OSBORN, 

In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the 
Southern District of New York. 



AGATUYNIAN PBES8. 



BIAJSrOA CAPELLO 



MDCCCLV 



CHARACTERS 

Primary 

Francesco-Maria de' Medici, Grand Duke of Tuscany. 

Cardinal Ferdinando de' Medici, ) t . -, ,-, 

' \ Ins brothers. 
Don Pietro de' Medici, ) 

Malocuore, a Gentleman of the Grand-duM s household^ and 

his confidant. 

Pietro Bonaventuri, at first a Clerk in the hanking-ho^ise 

of Salviati in Venice, hut subsequently the Grand-duke's 

Favorite and Intendant. 

LucA Sennuccio, his fellow-clerk and friend, and subsequently 

of the G. Duke's household. 

Carlo Antonio del Pozzo, Arch- 

bishop of Pisa, — at one time 

Auditor of the Treasury^ . both of the 

Ottavio Abbioso, Coadjutor- Bish- i Grand-duke's Cabinet. 

op of Pistoia and Florentine \ 

Secretary at Venice^ J 



BiANCA Capello, at first toife of Bonaventuri. 

Grand Duchess of Tuscany, 
Donna Isabella de' Medici, the Grand-duke's sister. 
Signora Malocuore, wife of Malocuore. 

Secondary 
Paolo G-iordano Orsini, Duke of Bracciano, husband of Isa- 
bella de' Medici. 
Bartolommeo Capello, Senator of Venice, Bianca's father. 
YiTTORio Capello, her brother. 
G-RiMANi, Patriarch of Aquileia, her uncle. 



204 

TiEPOLO, I Venetian Senators, special Ambassadors /ram tin 

MiCHiELi, S Repuhlic. 

Baccio Baldixi i 

-r, ^ > Court Physicians. 

PlETRO CaPPELLI, J ^ 

scherano, ^ 

Masnadiere, ! 

' y assassins. 
Malandrino, I 

Sgherro, J 

Cagnotto, 



T) r armed servants of the Favorite. 

Brenna, ' -^ 



Donna Eleonora di Toledo, wife of Don Pietro. 

Donna Virginia de' Medici, the Grand-dulce' s haJf-sisfet ^ 

betrothed and subsequently married to Don Cesar e d ' Este 
Bonaventuri's MoxnER. 
AiA, Biancas Governess. 

Count Ulisse Bentivoglio. A Page in Bonaventuri's 
household. Two Assassins. 

Mute Persons 

Pellegrina, Bianca^s Davghter, wife of Bentivoglio. Don Ce- 

SARE d' Este. Seyiators. Magistrates. Lords and 

Ladies of the Court. Venetian Nobles. 

Pages. Soldiers. Servants. 



Scene. In the First Act, in Venice ; in a portion of the Fourth, 

in Rome ; for the rest of the play, in Florence, until 

the catastrophe, — which taJces place at Caiano, 

in the neighborhood of Florence. 

Costumes. Those of the latter half of the 16th Century. 



BIANCA CAPELLO 



Act tee First 

Scene I. A room in tlie Apartment of Bonaventuri 
in the C'asa Salviati in Venice. 

BONAYENTUKI. SeXNUCCIO. 

Senn. Capello's daughter ? Thou art doubly mad! 

Bonav. All passion is but madness. Why not mme? 

Senn. All passion is not madness — not as thine. 
Thou art in impulse, act, and object mad. 
To love the flower of all Venetian maids, 
That was not sane : why ! art thou not, as I, 
But Salviati's servant, and low-born? — 

Bonav. What has ? 

Senn. To dare to make thy passion known, 
That was still madder. — 

Bonav. Could I will it else ? 



206 BIANCA CAPELLO 



Can? 

Senn. But to seek What dost thou seek in fine? 

Bonav. Nothing. Wilt hear me speak? Thou art no more 
Luke my companion, friendly although rough, 
And counseling like an elder brother ; thou 
Speak'st without pity, hast no sympathy, 
Though 't was for that, and through the show of that 
Alone, I utter'd what no human ear 
Should otherwise have learn'd. Thou did'st seduce me 
By thy great urgence and thy tone of love 
To throw myself upon thy offer' d breast, 
And then brok'st from me, with a shout and laugh. 

Senn. A shout, Pietro\ if thou so must phrase it. 
For I was sore amaz'd ; but not a laugh. 

Bonav. Yes, with a laugh. For what is it but scorn 
That makes thee treat my passion as insane ? 
I look'd for sober counsel, — for reproof; 
But yet for pity, — not for mockery. 

Senn. No. 
Nor hadst it. Canst thou not allowance make 
For my surprise ? It seem'd so strange a things 
When I beheld thee pining and cast down. 
Thy sparkling eyes grown heavy like a girl's 
Sick of her maidhood, and thy jocund laugh, 
That had at times contagion even for me, 
Turn'd to a melancholy vacant smile. 
As if thy soul were in the topmost clouds, 
And oft in answer to my happiest speech 
Heard thy inapplicable words, or met, 
As often quite, thy start, and stare, and " Luke, 



ACT I. SO. 1. 207 



Forgive me ! Do not think me rude ! I am 
Scarce well " : it seem'd so strange a thing, 
To learn at last thou wast heart-sick for one 
So high above thee, and so rarely bright, 
It was as though thou sighedst for the moon. — 
Bonav. Endymion did. 

Senn. That was in fable. 

Bonav. JSTot 
In fable though, the Moon return'd his sighs. 
That was the natural sequel of true passion. 
Which fires in turn. 

Senn. Thou hast the fable wrong. 
It was the Moon lov'd him, who slept through all. 
Thou may'st be handsome as the Latmian boy. 
Like him, thy moon consoles thee but in dreams. 
Bonav. ISTot so, by Heaven ! for I am wide awake, 

And [checking himself. 1 

Senn. Barest not say, that thou art lov'd in turn? 

Bonav. I dare not say it, but 

Senn. Thou look'st it I Now, 
This is sheer lunacy ! Moonstruck Pietro ! 
Art thou then well awake ? 

Bonav. I am awake : 
Awake to find that I have dream' d of things 
Not less unreal than Diana's kisses ; 
As of thy heart for' instance, and the place 
Methought I held in it ; awake to learn, 
And learn to my dismay, that souls as calm 
And as profound as thine may stir with envy. 



208 BIANCA CAPELT.O 



Senn. Pietro I — But so be it. It is well 

That I should read my nature. It may be 
That thou divinest right. Our friend's self-love 
Jars harshly on the quick sense of our own. 
'T is Heaven's foresight. — But, if envy's gust 
EuflQe the surface of my graver spirit, 
Thy vain presumption surges fathom-deep. 

Bonav. Vain ? and presumption ? It is kindly said! 

Senn. 'T is said, at least, in no disdain of thee. 
Capello's blood flows from the mountain rill ; 
Thine is like mine, the puddle : so men think. 

Senn. But what of these distinctions knows the heart, 
Or asks ? Love is no herald ; flesh and blood, 
Not gules and argent, are his lore : nor can 
The Doge's bonnet, did its jewel'd band 
Grleam on Capello's haughty forehead, throw 
The terror of his function round his child. 
She is herself alone ; lov'd for herself. 

Senn. 'T is thus thine eyes behold her. But for hers 

Bonav. They look not through her father's robe of state. 
Besides, I am not sure Bianca knows 

Senn. Bianca ? Eeally ! 

Bonav. Wherefore not? I would 
I had not so betray'd me ! But thus far 
Since thou hast brought me to confess, hear on. 
Hear on ? No ! read ! Read there ! 

Handing a note to Sennuccio, after kissing it luith rapture. 

Then J eagerly loatcliing his countenance as he reads, 

BoNAVEXTURi contiuucs triumphantly : 



ACT I. SC. 1. 209 



Art dumb ? Is that 
Diana*s beam? And am I yet asleep ? 
JSenn. I see no signature — no name without. 

Comes this indeed from her ? from her to thee? 
Bonav. To me from her. 

Senn. It passes all behef ! 
Is there no fraud ? Women have snar'd ere now. 
What means this mystery ? [indicating a i^ce 

on the note. 
Bonav. First give it voice. Eead out. 
Let my ears drink the rapture that my eyes 
Have ten times in the hour past reel'd with ; let 
My heart renew its triumph. Eead ! Eead all I 
JSenn. [reading. 

" Surprise — I would not say distrust or fear — 
Made me, perchance, seem harsher than I meant. 
I would amend my fault, if one have been. 
Does thy petition, in thy friend's behoof, 
Bear to be urg'd again, so let me hear it : 
That with prepared ears I may decide, 
If with my quality and maiden shame 
It suit to grant it. She who bears thee this 
Will tell thee more. Thou mayst confide in her, 

As I do in thy nobleness." — And WgH ? 

Bonav. Wilt thou without rude hindrance hear me through? 
Sennuocio nods gravehj. 
Eesolv'd to speak or die, I chose an hour 
When Blanche's governess came from her prayers, 
And told her that a case of life and death 



210 BIANCA CAPELLO 



Depended on the favor of her ward ; 

"Whose intercession in a friend's behalf 

I must implore in person. The good dame, 

By my strong urgence mov'd — how could she else ? 

I pray'd as to a saint, — at last consented 

That on the morrow I should be receiv'd 

Into their barge, and to her lady's ear 

Breathe out my supphcation. 

Senn. And thou went'st? 

Pietrol 

Bonav. Hush 1 — I went. Bianca's hand — 
'T could be no other there, so small, so white 1 
From the Capello's gondol-window wav'd 
A kerchief. 'T was a minute. In the next, 
I stood before her — knelt. Her veil was dropp'd, 
Even as I entered, by her guardian's hand. 
Senn. 'T was well the hag had some small conscience. 

Bonav. Luke ! — — 
At my mute look and motion of reserve, 
Bianca made the dame some steps retire. 
Then softly bade me rise and speak. "^ me I 
The voice took from me all my power. Perhaps 
The innocent young creature redd the cause 
Of my fresh agitation, if already 
Looks, gesture, attitude had not betray'd 
My soul's true object ; for her own sweet speech 
Trembled a little, as, with downcast mien, 
She bade me gain composure, and once more 
Enjoin'd me rise, if I would have her hear. 



ACT I. SC. 1. 211 



My thoughts came back. I told her the deceit 

My friend's despairing passion made me practice ; 

That not upon her father's hps, but hers, 

Hung the decision of his fate; and then, 

When I had pour'd forth all my passionate thoughts, 

Which no more broke in the utterance, but rush'd 

One rapid torrent, of such musical flow 

That my own senses vibrated, and love 

Took from the echo of itself new force, — 

Then did I pray that I might see the face 

That had wrought such sweet mischief. S]:ie complied. 

OLuke! 

Senn. Take breath, Endymion. 

Bonav. Would'st thou hear ? 

Senn. Ay ! But expect no sympathy. 

Bonav. Not now. 
I end the tale but to excuse myself. — 
Transported, madden'd if thou will, by charms 
Which gained by nearness, and whicii pudency 
Color'd to make transcendent, I avow'd 
My friend and I were one. And now in haste 
Comes up the governess, and with reproaches 
Lets down her lady's veil and bids me go. 
I rose — for still I had knelt. "And shall my friend,'' 
I ask'd, "dare then to hope?" — "Hope all men may,' 
Bianca said : " They who are right, hope always." 

Senn. A most sententious maiden ! — Well, so far, 
The mystery is solv'd. But this remains. 
Think'st thou the lady knows thee not her peer ? 



212 EIANCA CAPELLO 



She writes, " Thy nobleness." What means that phrase ? 

Bonav. For one so patient, thou art much in haste. 

Give me the note. — Thou hast heard I left abruptly. 
I fear, alas ! she knows not what I am. \ivith dejection, 

Senn. Fear^ say'st thou ? By St. Luke ! 'tis nobly said ! 
I too did fear, Pietro. {extending his liand^ which Bona' 
venturi does not touch. 
Bonav. \]iaughtily .'\ What then? 

Senn. This: 
Thy honorable nature had succumb'd. 
No ! \as Bonav. is going. 

in this mood thou leav'st me not. 
Bonav. [endeavoring to free himself.^ Why stay, 
When from thy coldness and distrustful thoughts 
I fly to Paradise ? and not to play 

The Serpent, as thou 

Senn. As I do not think. 
Thou shalt stay till thou hear'st me ; for 'tis thou 
That wrong'st me, not I thee. Do I not know thee ? 
Daring, impetuous, yet of kindly heart, 
Who among men hath honor, if not thou ? 
But what is human honor ? This one thinks, 
Not for wide worlds he would commit a theft. 
Yet plots, cabals, o'erreaches, undermines, 
And calls it policy. This, who the rare 
And precious gift enjoys to never lie, 
Save in surprise or fright of shame, belies 
His conscience daily by complaisant smiles, 
And in the exaction of his self-love feigns 



ACT I. SC. 1. 213 



Desires lie feels not 1 Affluence clips the wings 
Of honesty, which flies distress ; ^ and longing 
ludulg'd melts virtue that was cold as snow. 
Thou art as open as the broad sun-light, 
And all a man ; yet what ensures thy soul, 
When passion makes it agony to part, 
And happiness, and pride, and dread of shame, 
And pity itself, all urge thee to defer? 

Bonav. My present action. She who brought this billet — 
Given me this morn at mass — a fortnight gone 
Since in the gondola I knelt and sigh'd — 
Comes at the night's fifth hour — 'tis now at hand — 

[looking off the scene. 
To lead me to Bianca — to her home. 

Senn. At the Capello's palace ? 

Bonav. At the palace. 

Senn. Whither thou goest, to ? 

Bonav. Tell Bianca all : 
To end the dream which laps, perhaps, her senses, 
But is no dream for mine. 

Senn. This thou wilt do ? 

Bonav. I will, [with dejection^ yet firmly. 

Senn, Now Heaven make thee blest, Pietro I 
Happen what may, thou 'It bear no self-reproach 
On the charg'd conscience. Yet, ah be advis'd I 
Subdue this love ? To what end can it lead ? 
Know'st thou not Venice and the dreaded Ten ? 
Let but her sire denounce thee to the Signory, 
Thy life is not a summer's day. 



214 BIAXCA CAPELLO 



Bonav. So be it. 
Clock ivlthin strikes Five. 
Hark, from the clock-tower ! [Exit precipitately. 

Senn. Rash, but gallant heart ! 
Thou goest downright to manifest destruction : 
For my cold counsel tempers not thy pulse. 
Thou hast call'd it envy. Envy! Can it be? 
So. Let me sift m'yself. I would not make 
One of another class Avith those I sketch'd ; 
Men who sin not themselves, nor play the fool, 
But grudge the mirth and joy of those who do. 

[Exit — thougliifally. 



ACT I. SC. 2. 215 



Scene II. 

In the Casa CajyeUo. A room in Bianca's AjMrtment. 

BiANCA and the Governess. 

Bianca ivalhing up and down in agitation. She stops to 
look ojf the scene. 

Gov. 'T is but two minutes. Tliink ! 

Bian. 'T is but the street 
Between us. Two are twice too much. Were I 
As he, I should not be so long. And yet 
She ceases to address her attendant. 
How ardent was he ! Had he not been so, 
I had not ventur'd. But what will he think ? 
Gov. What matters ? He is noble ; then, must see 
How you have suffer' d. 

Bian. Yes, could he but know 
That for the last ten days I scarce have slept, 

Fearing a thousand things, and hoping more 

Why came he not to the house ? He must have seen 
How well he pleas'd me. Could he else, so made ? 
Gov. That may you say. And such a generous hand I 
Pure, all pure gold, the purse he- gave me leaving. 
It is a right rich house. 

Bian. Four minutes more I 



216 BIAKCA CAPELLO 



he is laggard 1 Hark but ! On the stair I 

Now 1 — Now I — The door, good nurse ! 

Enter Bonaventuri. 
BiANCA runs up, as if to throw herself into his arms, hut 
stojpSy sinks on a seat, and extends her hand, which Bona- 
venturi, kneeling, takes and kisses. 

Bonav. gentle lady I — 

Dare I once more ? 'T is what I scarce had 

hoped ! 
Bian. You speak to chide me. Have I been too bold ? 
Bonav. Bold ? 'T was an angel's impulse ! But for this, 
How could I, so unworthy, dare again ? — 

1 could but silent suffer, as till now, 

Through the long weary fortnight, since the hour 
I knelt and ventur'd in another's name 
To tell you I ador'd you, I have suffer' d. 
But this one minute, were it now to end, 
Eepays me, for all I for all 1 [kissing tenderly and 

rapturously her hand. 
Bian. Alas! 

And I But rise, [withdraiuing gently her hand. 

— I fear'd 1 know not well 

What 't was I fear'd. Is it, I was unkind ? 
I would not be, believe me. If in error, 

In the surprise, the if I said too little, 

Or, ! too much, forgive me, and forget 
All that is wrong in what I said or wrote, 



ACT I. SC. 2. 217 



For it lias much annoy' d me. 

Bonav. This for me ? 
I have not merited that thou shouldst lose 
One half-hour's rest, shouldst feel one moment's care, 
For such as I. Forgiveness ? Let me pray, 
Once more upon my knees, to be forgiven 
For the deceit through which this hour is mine. 1- 

Thou smilest. Best, as brightest of thy sex I i 

Hast thou been conscious of my long, long love, ^ 

And find'st it not so criminal ? Indeed, 
I could no longer bear it ; I had died, 
Had I not spoken. [ZTe tahes her hand. Biancaj m 
her reply ^ folds the other over Ms, 
Bian. Wherefore died? Seem'd then 
Bianca so ungentle, when thine eyes 
From thy sad window watch' d her going out, 
And waited her return ? Didst thou not think, 
Vain man ! the eloquence of those wistful looks 
Made echoes sometimes in the maiden heart 
That knew as yet no love but that of friends 
And parents ? Henceforth thou wilt not despond ? 
Thou hast stolen an easy way to Blanche's heart I 
Live then to guard it; live for her, live with her. 
Bonav. Forever ! such life were one long dream 
Of Paradise, with no forbidden fruit, 

No serpent, and no Must I not despond ? 

The dream already breaks ; the cherub stands 

Before the portal with the flaming sword. 

And Heaven's decree admits of no reversal. ^ 



218 BIANCA CArELLO 



Bian. What mean'st thou ? 

Bonav. Can this night endure forever? 
Wouklst thou permit, or could I dare request 
Again admittance to th}^ chamber ? 

Bian. No! 

Why shouldst thou need ? My father 

Bonav. my God! 
Springing lip ^ he comes forward^ and Bianca /oZ- 

loivs him to the front of the scene. 
The Governess also comes nearer^ though heeping 
still in the hachground. 
Bian. What is it ails thee ? In my father's name 

Should be no terror. Thou art not his foe ? 
Bonav. no ! But in thy father's blood is that, 

Though both are mortal, will not mix with mine. 

Bian. Yet thou art noble 

Bonav. Noble ? 

Bian. And thy house 
7s one whose stem might be entwin'd Avith ours. 
Bonav. My house ? Whom tak'st thou me for ? — my 

fears ! 
Bian. Wo 's me ! — Art thou not Salviati? 

Bonav. No ! 
Bian. Nor of his kin ? 

Bonav. Alas! nor of his kin. 
Bian. Heaven ! — Speak out! Thou would'st not tor- 
ture me 
Who have been kind to thee ? Say what thou art. 
Bonav. Bonaventuri, Salviati's clerk. 



ACT I. SC. 2. 219 



BiANCA sinJiS on a cJcair, icMcli the Governess 
has Irowjld Aer, and covers lier face luith both hands, 
BoNAVENTURi kiieels soflly hefore her. 
Oh clearest lady ! whom I have so wrong'd 
Not of my will, think not too hardly of me I 
Not by surprise, not from reluctant lips 
This truth was wrung; believe me, believe 1 
I fear'd your error, and I came to tell. 
To tell you all. Do not be angry with me! 
Bonav. Alns ! I have no anger, only sorrow, 

Sorrow for both of us. — [*S'/^e drops her hands. 
— Bonaventuri ! — 
[with a faint smue. 

Thou seest I fear not to pronounce thy name — 
"What I have said can never be recall'd; 
"What I have done, that will not be forgotten : 
If it will soothe thy anguish at this parting. 
To know I share it, be it even so. 
And now — farewell ! [extending her hicnid. 

Bonav. Not yet! In pity, no! 
Thou canst not so dismiss me ! Think, think, 
Of the long hours where hope shall never more, 
" Never, make day for me ! Think of the past. 
The month on month my yearning heart liath hunger' d, 
Feeding itself upon the single thought 
Of such an hour as this, which thou wouldst shorten 
Thou dost not seem to scorn me : let me then 
Lie at thy feet, and, for some minutes still, 
Dream I 'm in TTcavcu. 



220 BIANCA CAPELLO 



Bian. To awaken where ? 
Since part we must, why struggle to obtain 
A respite that at best can be but brief? 
Bonav. Because it is my life, and all beyond 
Is death and darkness. 

Bian. Hast thou then for me 
No thought? Canst thou bear nought for my sake? 

Bonav. prising quickhj.\ Yes ; 
An age of heartache, will it give you ease. 
I was but selfish : I will go. I go. [moving sadly away., 
with his eyes still on Bianca, who rises. 
Gov. [laying her hand on Bonaventuris arm. 

Come then, young man, since you are no one now. 
It is high time that you were gone. 

Bian. How now ! 
Aia, know better thine own place, and mine ; 
And, where I honor, learn to show at least 
Some sign of reverence. 

Gov. [low, to herself. ] What a change is here I 
She was a child this morning ! 

Bian. ^Mind her not : 
I am the mistress here. — Look not so mournful I 

[giving her hand. 
And yet I cannot bid thee not remember. 
Bonav. Could I obey ? — Wilt thou remember me ? 

Wilt thou mourn for me, if Bianca! (so — 

Permit me — 't is the only time — to call thee) 
Whatever happen, thou wilt not condemn me ? 
Thou wilt not mix my errors with my birth, 



ACT I. £C. 2. 221 



And deem me all unworthy ? 

Bian. Seem I sucli? 
What mean'st thou ? 

Bonav. Heaven bless thee ! and — Farewell ! 
As he is goinc/, Biaxca, ivJio has seemed a moment 
stujpefied^ suddenly hastens to him. 
Bian. Bonaventuri ! 

Bonav. Why command me back ? 
I thought it past. 

Bian. \taldng his hand^loohs fixedly and anx- 
iously in his face.] What didst thou mean by that ? 
There is a desperation in thy look 
That should not be there. Art thou not a man ? 
Is love the only object of man's being ? 
There be far nobler aims ; and thou art young, 
Ardent, and bold. Live that I may not blush 
To have shown thee favor, live because thou hast 
Thy life thou knowest not why, and hast no right 
To squander it as if it were thy choice. 
More, thou didst lay it at my feet : 't is mine, 
If thou concede it not, as fits thee rather. 
Thy country's, and thy fellow-men's, thy God's 1 
Why art thou silent ? Why that stony look 
Of passionless despair ? Thou dost not love me I 

Thou wouldst not else 

Bonav. Bianca ! \slov)ly. . 

Bian. Promise then 
Thou wilt do nothing desperate, thou wilt 
Do nothinET till thou hear'st from me. Thou canst 



222 BIAXCA CAPELLO 



Never more enter here 

Gov. {wJio has looJced on Bianca all the 
while with amazement.'] Not by my will ! 
Bian. Aia ! — But thou shalt hear from me, thou wilt 
Write to me by the messenger, and send. 
Dost thou then promise — solemnly ? 

Bonav. I do — 
By all Grod's holy angels 1 — thou art one. 
Bian. Stoop ! — With this kiss [kissing him solemnly Oii the 

forehead. 
thou hast Bianca's — friendship. 
I vow it — hear, Heaven ! So long as thou do nought 
To forfeit it. Now go at once ; go quickly. 
The Mooress waits without to lead thee down. 
BoNAVENTURi Mssing passionately Bianca's hand^ presses it^ 
clasped^ a moment to his heart, then moves to the 
door, his face still turned on Bianca. 
Gov. \as she conducts him out. 

Mary be prais'd ! here never to come more. 

[^Exeunt Bonav. and Gov. 
Bianca gazes a moment fixedly on the door, then wrings 

her hands in a paroxysm of grief. 
Bian. Now he is gone, I am a child again. 

Mary Mother ! St. Mark ! and gentle Luke ! [hneeling. 
All angels and good saints ! pray, pray for me ! 
Aid me against myself ; I have no strength 
To make the sacrifice which Heaven commands. 
She buries her face in the cushion of the chair, sohhing 
hitterly. — Scene closes. 



ACT I. SO. 3. 223 



Scene III. 

A room in Sennuccio's apartment, in the Casa Salviati. 
Sennuccio sitting at a tahle reading. 

Enter Bonaventuri. 

Sennuccio looTcs up, then resumes his occupation. 
. BoNAVENTURi loohs at him for some moments, then lays 
hefore him an open letter. 

Bonav. Read. 

Senn. From Bianca ? [loohing at the signature. 
Bonav. Ay. But read aloud. 
iSenn. [reading. 

" Thou ask'st in vain. There are no means. Not one. 

My governess is proof to prayers and gold. 

She threatens even, if I give not o'er, 

To expose us to my father. What to do ? 

I am so watch'd, by day as well as night, 

I cannot meet thee elsewhere, and here now . 

Would put thy life in peril and my fame. 

Write me no more such letters, in pity ! 

They burn into my brain. My nights are frightful ; 

And from brief slumbers and distracting dreams 

I wake to weep, to ponder our sad lot. 

To see perhaps thy wan face at 'the casement, 



224 BIANCA CAPELLO 



Think on thy anguish, which redoubles mine, 

And deem sometimes 't were better both were dead. 

I thought myself more strong when thou wast by, 

But in thy absence fmd myself the weaker. 

Have then, I pray, compassion on us both." 

Thou wilt have, wilt thou not ? 

Bonav. It is too late. 
I have already written, three days since. 
iSenn, And was that generous ? 

Bonav. It was simply just. 
I had compassion on herself and me. 
■Senn. Explain. 

Bonav. For that I come ; and for thy aid. — 
I wrote to say, I would receive her here, 
Here in my rooms, in Salviati's house. 
Bonn, [starting up. They hoth come forward. 
Art thou distracted ? 

Bonav. Desperate alone. 
I never spoke more sanely in my life. 
My plan is for salvation. [^Senn. atout to interrupt. 

Hear ! then judge. 
I told her I would watch for three whole nights, 
Until the day broke. Coming, she should be 
Sacred before me as an enshrin'd saint 
Before its votary. This I truly vow'd. 
By her dead mother, by her living self. 
But coming not, I cast off hope forever. 
And with it my young life, then nothing worth. 
Two nights have pass'd in vain. This early morn 



ACT I. sc. 3. 225 



I saw her at a window. so wliite ! 

So suppliant with those melancholy eyes I 

"Whose deep-sunk and impurpled orbits show'd 

Long watching, passion, and the pine of care, — 

That my fast purpose trembled. But it holds. 

The third night comes : and with it — comes Bianca. 

I feel it in my soul. 

Senn. Thou tak'st her for ? 

Bonav. Capello's child, high-thoughted and most pure ; 

Yet a deep-loving woman. She will trust me. 
Senn. And thou? 

Bonav. Will keep my oath. I swear it here, 
As I have sworn it on my knees to God. 
Witness ye saints ! my sister, now in Heaven, 
Would not be more immaculate by me 
Than she shall be this night ! 

Senn. What then your aim ? 
Bonav. To marry her. Thou 'It aid me ? 

Senn. No ! 

Bonav. Thou wilt. 
Thou wouldst not scruple to give life to both. 
Senn. Ay, must I do it wrongly. But this life ! 

To take her from the lap of luxury, to expose her, 
This delicate child, soft-niirtur'd, and high-plac'd, 
This daintiest flower of all Venetian land, 
To the bleak winds of penury, transplanted 
To an ungcnial and a barren soil : 

BoNAVENTURi wallcs alovt impatiently. 
Is this — Stop ! listen to me ! — this your life ? 



228 BIANCA CAPELLO 



Better to slay her outright, and to die for 't ! 
That were a crime, but 't would be truer mercy. 
But this is idle talk : for, say she come. 
How know'st thou she is reckless as thyself ? 
'T is a long leap, a marriage ! 

Bonav. She will take it, 
When there is no way left her but to leap. 
Senn. Ha! 

Bonav. Wilt thou aid me, Luca ? 'T is not much. 
Senn. Let me hear further. 

Bonav. When Bianca comes. 
She leaves the portal of her house ajar. 
So that she may steal softly back unseen. 

Now, were it slily clos'd behind her 

Senn. WeU? 
Bonav. There is but left, her ruin or to fly. 
Luke ! dearest Luke I I will be all my life 
Bound to thee, wilt thou do me this slight office. 
Senn. Hast thou then done ? — Is this indeed thyself? 
Speak'st thou of real purpose ? Art thou truly 
Pietro Bonaventuri ? If thou art, 
Then am I Luke Sennuccio ; and no man 
Durst ever call on me before to do 
A thing so base. 

Bonav. Have patience I 

Senn. Hear now me. 
If thou do not abandon this vile plan, 
I will report thee to the lady's sire — 
Or no ! I will not put in risk thy life ; 



ACT L SO. 3. 227 

I will expose thee to Bianca's self. 

Bonav. [haughtily.'] Who gave you right to hold this talk 
to me? 

Senn. Nature, and threaten'd innocence, which finds 
In every true man a defender. 

Bonav. Luke! 
I thought thou wast my friend. 

Senn. I am thy friend. 
Thou never hadst a truer. I dare say 
Thou never wilt have one so true again. 
Por I will not, to pander to thy passions, 
Stain thy immortal soul. I will not suffer 
What doubtless now to thy distemper'd blood 
Seems venial craft, but one day will appear. 
When the film leaves thine eyes, atrocious guilt. 

Bonav. Thou didst allow me honor. 

Senn. I do still. 
Said I not too, alas for human honor ? 
Alas, that somewhere it has aye some flaw I 
Passion, ambition, indigence, all serve 
To lend it pretexts to excuse its fall. 
Thou, in the hunger of thy famish' d love, 
Dost clutch at bread that is not fairly thine. 
Thou shalt not have it. 

Bonav. Thou dost bear me hard. 
Thou art no lover, and thj cold resolve 
Cuts off the last resource of both our lives. 
For Blanche will pine to death, nor I survive. 

S&nn. So all youth think. And very few think right. 



228 EIANCA CAPELLO 



The storm blows, and the Hly stoops her head, 
But hfts it soon, and with the cahii revives. 
But, be it otherwise : hast thou not heard 
Thou shalt not evil do that good may come ? 
Be honest, do thy duty : the result 
Is with the All- Powerful, not the feeble will 
Of circumscrib'd and narrowsighted men. 
Pietro ! end this matter as it may, 
Thou art not sinless, knowing from the first 
Well who thou art, which knew this virgin not.- 
Thou hast repair'd that errd", like the brave 
• And honest soul thou art. Wilt thou fail now ? 
I will not think it. Get thee to thy chamber. 
Ask if thou lov'st Bianca or thyself. 
And on the altar of a true affection 
Burn up thy guilty wishes. Angels will 
Inhale with joy the incense, God approve 
That truest hero, him who conquers self. 
Bonav. [Throwing himself on Sennuccio's hreasf, and iviih 
emotion. 
Luke ! had I thy spirit ! 

Senn. [caressingly.] And my blood? 
Virtue, believe, is not to know not sin, 
But the soul's victory when tried by sin. 
Be thou thus virtuous, I will say thy love 
Honors Bianca, were she born a queen. 

[Exit Bonav. 
Luke, leaning with his hent hand on the tahle^ gazes 
on him seriously as he retires. And Scene closes. 



ACT I. sc. 4. 229 



Scene IY. 

In the Cas:i Capello. 
A room hung ivith ^portraits. On a iahle^ two lighted candles. 

Capello. Goverxess. 

Gov, I meant, your Excellence, to speak of this. 

Cap. Hast thou then notic'd this sad change ? Since when ? 

Gov. 'T is some weeks gone since first my lady droop'd. 

I thought it nothing serious, still believing 

A little time would make all well again. — 
Cap. Complain'd my daughter? Sought she for no aid ? 
Gov. Alas ! your Excellence, 't is not the body : 

This is some sore distemper of the mind. 
Cap. What mean'st thou ? 

Gov. I would pray to be forgiven 

If I offend ; but my young lady 

Cap. Speak ! 
Gov. I fear, has something heavy on her heart. 
Cap. Mean'st thou, in fme, my daughter is in love ? 
Gov. May it please your Excellence, 't is nothing less. 
Cap. Be but the object worthy of her love, 

I were well pleas'd that it were nothing more. 

Who is it then ? 

Gov. Your Excellence must know 

My lady would not make of me her friend. 



230 BIANCA CArELLO 



Cap. Tliou art her goYcrness : if, as I am loatli 
To even conjecture, there is wrong in tliis, 
Thou only art to blame. Thou hast my child, 
Daily and nightly, under thy sole care. 
What can transpire that thou shouldst not observe ? 

Gov. Heaven is my judge, that I in this have done 
My proper duty. Till the last two days, 
I hop'd that all was well. But yesterda}^, 
ISTor less the one before, the livelong night, 
My dear young lady never press'd her bed, 
"Walking unquictly from time to time 
Her chamber through. 

Cap. And where Avast thou the while ? 

Gov. Twice went I to the door. She thank'd me kindly, 
But bade me leave, as wanting not my help. 

Cap. How is 't to-night? 

Gov. She has retired early ; 
And all is quiet in her chamber. Haply 
She will sleep well to-night, being so much worn. 

Cap. 'T is likel}^, very likely. God so grant ! 
I will not break this salutary rest. 
But on the morrow bid her be prepar'd 
For solemn question. — my darling child I 

lie ceases to notice the Governess. 
Let not my colder age efface the sense 
Of my once passionate youth. When thou wast born, 
I pray'd thai error of the old might not 
One day be mine. Yet is the lesson hard 
For a fond parent's heart ! The child is his, 



ACT I. SC. 4. 231 



But not lier passions. At the age when most 
She needs his guidance, when new-born desire 
Makes the first object welcome, and the soul 
Takes cognizance of only things extern. 
Then may he least command ; then, child no more, 
And yet not woman, she escapes his hand. 
Before her unfledg'd sense has power to fly. 
Hast thou done so, Bianca ? Is this love 
Which fevers th}^ young blood, then this unrest, 
This secret sorrow marks a sense of shame, 

Or unrequited or forbidden passion. See ! 

Turning to the ]}ictures. In so doing^ he ohserves 

the Governess. 
Thou needst not wait, good Aia. It is now 
Past midnight. Listen at my daughter's door, 
Ere thou retirest ; but disturb her not. — [Exit Gov, 

Regards again the oidures. 
Kext to my father Carlo the ambassador's 
Hangs thy sweet image, my Bianca ! 'T is 
One of the best from old Yecelli's hand. 
How his soft pencil and his dulcet grace 
Have beautified and made the canvas live ! 
The blood is in those cheeks ! those eyes are moist 1 
From those just-parted delicate lips I seem 
To feel the warm breath, and my own in turn 
Might almost wave those airy threads of gold 
That shape thy ringlets ! Magic power of color I 
Yet Titian vow'd thou didst surpass his art, 
As did the light its symbol on his board.'* 



232 BIAXCA CAPELLO 



Such do not sigh in vain. Thou sorrowest then 
For a forbidden passion which is shame ; 

And my old house Thou shalt not dim its pride F 

Forget thou the Gapcllo, and a veil 
Shall hide thy forfeit station, like Falier's, 
"Who too forswore his birthright. 'T is a thought 
To keep me waking. Let me drive it hence. 

He lifts one of the candles towards the incture^ 

One nearer look, my child, before I go. 

Scene chse9. 



ACT I. sc. 5. 233 



Scene Y. 

A street^ with a canal crossing it ahove ; ichere, hij a "bridge 

which spans the canal, are ohscurely seen, in the faint 

morning -iwiliglit, the prows of gondolas. Forwardj 

on either side the street, facing each other, the 

Casa Capello and the Casa Sdlviati. 

From the ported of the hitcr 
Enter 

BiANCA and Boxavextuei, 

the latter having a small dark-laut.rn, . 

which he masks. 

Bian. See ! the gray dawn ! Farewell ! A last — 

Wo 's me, I cannot say again — Farewell! 
Bonav. [pressing her to his hreast. 

Haply, 't is not forever. Heaven bless thee ! 
Thy word i-emember, 

Bian. Never, never, never 
To be another's, if not thine. Farewell ! 
jEmhraeing. Bianca crosses over to the p)ct,lc(cs on the right. 
But c hnost insianily, coming hack in terror : 
Ruin I ruin ! God ! the door is clos'd. 



234 BIAXCA CAPELLO 



Bonav. Hast tliou no key ? 

Bian. Xone, none ! And if I had^ 
I durst not use it for the noise. 

Bonav. Stay here. 
I will essay. Perhaps tlie door will yield. 
Bian. Ko, no I Try not. There is no help but flight. 
Bonav. Whither? 

Bian. Hast thou no parents? 

Bonav. Ay, but poor.. 
Bian. No matter; I can Avork. They shall be mine. 

Come Bonaventuri ! Come, my husband ! Come \ 
Bonav. Alas, Bianca ! all my worldly means 

Lies in this httle purse. The rest was given, 
How gladly ! for that first blest scene with thee 
Which costs thee now so dear. 

Bian. Be it small or great^ 
It must be. My few rings will eke it out. 
Tarry not. Every moment here is fraught 
With more than death. I cannot face again 
My father. Come. Art thou a man ? Must I 
Entreat thee to do that, which not long since 
Thou wouldst have thought salvation ? 

Bonav. 'T is for thee. 

Wilt thou meet poverty and honest shame 

Bian. Bather than what awaits me here ? That, that, 
Canst thou ask that ? hnger not I Each minute 
Is so much lost to flight that must be quick. 
Eoi they will follow us. It is thy death. 



ACT I. SC. 5. 235 

Bonav. Come then, Bianca ; now mine, life or ^eatli 1 
To tlie first gondola. Once out of Yenice, 
The first priest, if thou wilt, shall make us one. 

Bian. Yes. my father ! 

Bonav. Hush, Bianca ! Come. 

He takes up the lantern. 
They move up the scene in the shadow of the houses. 

The Drop falls. 



236 BIANCA CAPELLO 



Act the Second ' 

Scene I. A cJiamher in the Pitti Palace ai Florence, 

TnE Grand Duke 

seated^ leaning on a table in a pensive attitude. Malo- 

cuoRE standing apart, a little hefore him. 

Mai. \in a tone of deferential inquiry. 

My lord the Duke is not so well to-day. 
A ijause. 
With still more deference.'] 

Will my lord pardon his poor servant's zeal, 

And give command the hunt shall not take place ? 
G. D. {without looking up. 

For my ill-humor Avhy should hundreds lack 

Their custom' d pleasure ? Let the order stand. 
Again a pause. 
Mai. 'T was from the last hunt that my liege came back 

"With that strange sorrow which still wounds our hearts. 
A long -r pause. 
G. D. Thou art a courtier, Malocuor. Men say 

Thou hast sharp eyes, seest quickly and seest far. 

Thou boastest of tlij zeal in our behalf. 

Forget thy art.^ What whisper stirs the court 

Touching our strangeness? 



ACT II. sc. 1. 237 



Mai. Some ascribe the cause 
To depravation of the humors, bile, 
Infarction of the spleen, — such natural ills ; 
Some to the weight of heav}^ cares of state ; 
Others — your Highness bids that I should speak — 
To discontent with your Archducal spouse. 
G. D. [hastihj. 

They do me wrong : I hold her — in esteem. 
Mai. Which often is the antipodes of love. 
G. D. And to M'hich guess does Malocuore lean ? 
Mai. The last, with some admixture of the first. 

Your Highness' malady is of the heart. 
G. D. Ha ! — Men say well : thou hast keen eyes. 

Mai. AYould then 
The royal patient deign to state his case. 
Perhaps the surgeon might propound a cure. 
The Q. D. rises and icalks to and fro. 
G. D. [after a pause. 

Hear then. But can I trust thee ? 

Mai. Shall I prove 
That I am worthy ? Shall I state, myself. 
Your Highness' symptoms, with the when and where, 
And how, of the attack ? 

G. D. What know'st thou ? Speak ! 
Mai. 'T was at the last hunt. As the cavalcade 

Swept through the suburbs, and the people fxock'd 
To door and window to behold their Prince, 
In a small cottage with a vine-clad porch. 
That stood secluded M'liere the highway turns, 



238 EIAXCA CAPELLO 



Lean'd from a narroAV casement next the roof, 
A fair young creature of some eighteen years, 
So strangely beautiful, and with a mien . 
So far above the seeming of her place, 
The Great Duke, starting, drew his bridle short, 

To gaze 

G. D. Art thou the Devil ? 

Mai. I am but 
Your Highness' humble subject — with sharp eyes. 

G. D. ISTo more ! Thou hast thy monarch's secret. He ? 

Mai. His subject's instant aid, so he will deign 
Graciously to command it. 

G. D. Instant? Then 
Sawest thou not, with all thy sight, what I 
Saw and will vouch. This is no peasant maid, 
Simple and uninstructed ; far less one 
Of that most numerous class in evesy life, 
Whose vanity throws out perpetual lures. 
Tempting temptation. Else the glance that pierc'd 
Had made me whole. But thou dost not believe 
In virtuous women ? 

Mai. Ay, as in wall'd towns. 
Many are strong, but none impregnable, 
A vigorous siege and obstinate resolve 
Will batter down or bring a Troy to terms. 
Where open combat fails, some wooden horse 
Lets in the troop that makes the stronghold ours. 
Is it your Highness' will, this very day 
The chance is given you to assault the place. 



ACT IT. SC. 1. 239 



G. D. What sayst thou ? 

Mai. Be it not ascrib'd a fault, 
That I have dar'cl anticipate your -will. 
G. D. Who gave thee orders ? 

Mai. Will my lord but hear ? 
I have ventur'd only to make clear the approach, 
By which yom- Highness might lay siege in form. 
G. D. Speak plainly, Malocuor, and leave thy cant. 
I like it not. Here is no vile intrigue ; 
And shall be none. 

Mai. Returning from the chase. 
The Sovereign lifted up his e3'es again, 
Unto the cottage-windoAV. But no more 
The star was burning there that made the day ; 
And over his visage came like darkness. This, 
"Wlien I saAV this, and mark'd from day to day 

The sadness lessen not ; when, furthermore 

G. D. \impatiently . 

Well, well! we have admitted thou hast eyes. 
Mai. Pardon, your Grace ! — ]\Iy spouse, by mj com- 
mand, 
Made easily acquaintance with the dame 
Who is this angel's mother, then herself. 
She has seen her often, finds still some pretence 
To do her kindness, — though, unlike the dame, 
The daughter is both proud and strangely shy. » 

G. D. How speaks your spouse her bearing otherwise? 
Mai. Modest, reserv'd; but, like her voice and mien, 
Above her sphere. 



240 BIAXCA CAPELLO 



G. D. And beauty ? 

Mai. Marvelous. 
G. D. [taldng his hand. 

All, Malocuore ! And this priceless maid ? 

Ifal. So rarely worthy of a monarch's love; 

Has then my lord no wish to see her near ? 
G. D. Wouldst drive me mad ? Speak on ! 

Mai. No wish to be 
Beside her — and alone — and even now ? 
G. D. What! what! Thou didst mdeed promise instant 

aid! 
Mai. This very hour my spouse will bring her home. 
G. D. To thine own house ? 

Mai. To mine: my sovereign's house, 
Will he so grace it. 

G. D. And this very hour ? 
He rests his hand on Malocuor's shoulder. 
Dear Malocuore ! This is too much joy ! 
What shall I do to compensate thy love ? 
Thou hast indeed thy keen eyes us'd right well. — 
Thou wilt attend mc. — Saidst thou not, this hour ? — 
Bid come our Chamberlain. — [Exit Mai. 

How bright the day ! 
Sitting down hg the table. 
It seems to me as now I first had life. 
* Rising J he ii asses through a door ahove^ and 

Scene closes. 



ACT II. SO. 2. 241 



Scene II. 

In Malocuores Jiouse. The dressing-room of Signora Malo- 
cuore. 

BiAxcA. Tlie Signora. 
The latter displaying her jewels and finery. 

Sign. You are a strange fair creature. One -svould think 

These toys had been your playthings all your hfe. 

Yet that is not a long one either. 

Bian. Why 

Should usage only breed indiiFerence ? Eather 

It is the innate relish or distaste 

For such things makes them valued or despis'd. 

Age pranks itself therein like lighter youth. 
Sign. You are a young philosopher. 

Bian. I know 

The difference betwixt folly and good sense. 

It were not wise in me to covet what, 

Even were 't attainable, would not fit my place. 

Sign. That place may better; and these jewels then 

Bian. Would still have little value in my eyes. 

I dress to please my husband ; and his taste 

Is well contented with this simple garb. 



242 - BIAXCA CArELLO 



Sign. In sooth, it does not misijecome j6u. I have known 

[sign ificantJif^ 

A sovereign prince to admire as plain a robe. 

Pray let me hang this chain about your neck. 

Thus, you are lovely. Do not take it off. 

It well relieves the ivory of that skin. 
Bian. {tranqidlJy removing the chain. 

But is in painful contrast to the rest, 

Signora, to oblige my husband's mother 

More than yourself, I have let you bring me hither.. 

Thanking your courtesy, suffer me to leave. 
Sign. \JooJdng off the scene, as if healing something. 

A little longer. I have yet to show you, 

Gentle Bianca, what is worth this all. 

[Exit. 
Bian. It must be greatly so, if thou v/ouldst dazzle 

The rich Capello's child. Capello ! Father ! 

Mourn'st thou Bianca yet ? Or has just anger 

Stifled all sorrow for thy truant girl ? 

Who has one only grief, the thought that thou 

Art unforgiving and yet unconsol'd.® 

J^nter 

the Grand Duke — eagerly, 

hut hecomcs at once emharrassed, u-hile Bianca holes 

siuyriscdj hut steady. 

G. D. Pardon ! I [siammering. 

Bian. Sic'nora Malocuoro 



ACT II. SG 2. 243 



Has stepp'd out for a moment. 

G. D. The gignora 

Shall be exciisM. Her al3sence gives me room 

To make, without the encumbrance of a third, 

The acquaintance of the loveliest of her sex. 
Bian. This cannot be the master of the house. 
G. D. The master's master, and your beauty's slave. 

Bian. Ah! — It is 'T is ! I see now. The Grand 

Duke ? 
G. D. Francis of Medici, who Do not stoop 1 

'T is I should rather kneel, wouldst thou permit, 

Fairest Bianca. 

Bian. Speak not so, my lord ! 

That tone becomes not either you or me. — 

I have an earnest prayer to make your Grrace. 

'T is a small matter, but concerns me much. 
G. D. Else first. Now, what is there that thou canst ask, 
, Saving his honor and his people's weal, 

That Francis will not grant ? Think it then granted, 

So thou wilt one accord to me in turn, 

Bianca, and my love 

Bian. My lord! my lord I 

I am — a marry' d woman. 

G. D. lilarry'd ? Well ! 

Am I not marry'd too ? Alas ! the heart 

Cannot be bound so easily as the hand. 
Bian. But the will may, and should when reason bids. 
G. D. Reason now bids me to obey my will. 

The flame thy beauty kindled thy sense fans. 



244 15TANCA CAPELLO 

I had not lie;wd thy speech, when on my eyes, 

Lovely Bianca, 

Bian. Pardon me, my Hege. 
That I dare interrupt, impute it solely 
Unto my duty, to you and to myself. 
If I could ever listen, plac'd as now, 
To such wild words as these from such as you, — 
As I do not believe I ever should, — 
Yet is n?y will not free as yours ; my heart 
Is, like my hand, my husband's. 

G. D. Every w^ord 
But adds new motive to my passion, showing 
How rightfully 't is plac'd. Thou shouldst be silent, 
Wouldst thou not foster feelings, which, in sooth. 
Needed no nourishment. 

Bian. Then let me hence. 
Such protestations — pardon me, my liege — 
Demean yourself, 3^our august spouse, and me. 

[ Offering to go. lie stops her, 
G. D. Art thou insensible ? Thou art not vain. 
But hast thou no compassion ? 

Bian. I have more. 
You are my Prince, albeit I was not born 
Your subject. Men report, and I believe. 
You are among the noblest of crown' d heads. 
My eyes have noted in your form and mien 
What women value ; and m}^ ears have found 
Sense in the tone and purport of your speech. 
Thus amiable, thus gifted, so high-plac'd, 



ACT II. SC. 2. 245 

Tou cannot lack for dames in all your court 
Fairer than your poor handmaid, noble too, 
Who would joy in your homage, and respond 
Haply unto your love, if — let me dare 
To speak thus — you will do yourself that wrong 
To offer it. 

G. D. And are they such as thou ? 
Thy very words prove otherwise. If such. 
They would not listen more than thou. Ko, thou, 
Thou only, who, believe me ! since these eyes 
First saw thy fatal beauty, hast alone 
Been mistress of my senses and my thoughts, 

Thou only, fair • 

Bian. My lord, I must, I can not, 
AYill not listen longer. All the honor. 
The reverence that I owe you, that I render; 
But my first duty is to God. Permit me 
Thus to perform it. \Jier hand on the door. 

G. D. \sto2jping her. ^ 

No. If it must be, 
"T is I will go. Bianca, have me not, 
I pray, in disesteem. Let Francis hold 
The next place in thy bosom, if thou canst, 
To thy most happy husband. Thou slialt not 
Say I abus'd my privilege. In love 
I am like other men, and, loving so. 
Like any gallant man I take my leave. 

[Exit^ lowing with sad deference. 
Bian. A noble prince. Not conscious, surely, lie 



246 BIxVNCA CAPELLO 



Of this vile plot. Ah! the arch-plotter comes. 

Enter the Signora, ivith a cashet. 

Sign. I have kept you too long Availing. Pardon. — Here 
Is what Tv^ill wake your wonder. [piDening the casket. 

Bian. That was done 
During your absence bravely. Shut the box. 
Sign. What! Have you seen the Duke? I thought as 
much. 
He often takes us by surprise. I hope 
You have seiz'd the occasion, to present your prayer ? 
Bian. Was it for that^ you urg'd me to come hither ? 
Sign. No. But I promised access to His Highness; 
And I am happy, have you us'd this chance. 
Sweet, look not grave : and do not haste away. 
Bian. I do not like surprises : and this one 

Has brought me no advantage. I will not 
Trouble you longer. 

Sign. Nay, you shall not go 
As you were angry. I shall see you home. 

lExeunt 



ACT II. SC. 3. 24T 



Scene III. 

An Aiitechamler in the Jioiise of MaJocuore. 

Enter 

from one side the Gr. Duke, as passing through, 

escorted hy Malocuor. 

The Gr. D. stops shorty laying his hand on his follower's arm^ 

G. D. I have gfccn her, heard her, touch'd her. All my 
nerves 
Tmgle with pleasure. Yet my heart is sad. 
Mai. Is it that all is won ? Accomplish' d hope 
Often brings sadness. 

G. D. Since it nothing leaves 
To feed expectance ? or, the goal once reach' d, 
We find the prize not Avorth the strain and sweat ? 
My longing is misated, my bright prize 
Grows brighter on my vision, like the sun 
As day advances. Yet my heart is sad : 
For — all is lost. 

Mai. Then is it the first time 
Your Highness has been vanquish'd. 

G. D. The first time 
Defeat is dearer to my heart than victory. 
Thou look'st surpris'd. I tell thee, Malocuor, 



548 BIAXCA CAPELLO 



All thou liast saidj all that thy spouse has told, 
All that in heat of fancy I have drcam'd, 
Fall short to picture beauty, sense and worth. 
That have no rivals save themselves. She is 
The loveliest, best, and wisest of her sex. 

.Mai. May I infer, the most obdurate too ? 

G. D, What else? I said, '• the best" : and she is wed. 

2Idl. 'T is the fii'st trial. When we shake the tree, 
The apples fall not. But we lend our strength 
To newer efforts; and they drop in time. 

O. D. That is your over-ripe, and worm-gnaw'd fruit. 
Bianca's stem is tough. 

Mai. Let royal favor 
Pour sunshine on the treasure of the tree. 
The crude pulp mellows, and the stubborn stem, 
Now useless, withers up. Invite the lady 
To grace your Highness' Court. 

G. D. That would I gladly. 
But not to rot the virtue I admire. 
The tree shall bear its honors in our midst, 
And its fruit give out fragrance undespoifd. 
'T is something still to see her, hear her, know 
That she is near me. Once beyond my reach, 
I should be wretched, fearing she were lost. 
Know'st thou her husband ? To be lord of her, 
He should be not ignoble. 

Mai. Not in mien. 
The man is fair to look on, and well-spoken. 
My lord might give him place about his person. 



ACT II. SC. 3. 240 



G. D. See it be done. Promise him what thou wilt, 

So it be not a place of public trust. 
Mai. Your Grace shall be obey'd, and, more — be happy. 
They resume their luay through the antechcuriber^ 

Mai.ocuore ceremonioushj conducting^ and Exeunt^ 



Scene IV. 



A 'poorly furnished chamber in the house of Bonaventuri^ s 
Parents. 

BONAVENTURI. His MoTHER. 

Moth. 'T is as thou sayest, Pietro, and our luck 
Is surely blossoming. And glad am I, 
If only for Bianca's sake, 't is so. 
To see that delicate creature, night and day. 
Toiling with those soft hands, that ne'er were made 
For menial labor, makes my heart bleed. 

Bonav, Yet 
She does not murmur. 

Moth. More an angel she. 
An angel is she. Oft I wonder, son, 
Though thou art brave and comely, thou couldst win 



250 BIANCA CAPELLO 



So rare a maiden. But I wonder not, 

Once won, thou gav'st up all to make her thine. 

Bonav. She gave up all too, mother ; and that all 
Was more a thousand times. 

Moth. The heavier then 
Her loss. I fear she feels it so. Her brow, 
Methinks, grows sadden' d, and her cheek more pale, 
I would she had less care on her young heart. 

Bonav. What can we do ? Our money is all spent. 
Until the Duke's protection be procur'd, 
I dare not stir abroad to seek for work, 
I wonder that Bianca was so bold 
To gaze from window when the Court rode by. 

Moth. 'T was but an instant, from the upper floor. 
Thou shouldst not blame her. 

Bonav. And I did not. Yet 
The risk w^as great. And therefore I rejoice 
In this court-lady's favor. If nought else, 
The Duke may shield us. That is one care less. 
Was not that wheels ? [listening. 

Moth, [opening the casement. 

The gracious dame herself,. 
In her brave equipage, has brought her back ! 

Bonav. She comes. Bianca 1 

Ente?^ Bianca. 
She throws herself into her husland's arms. 

Bian. 0, let us begone I 



ACT II. SC. 3. 251 

Bonav. Whither ? What is the matter ? Has the Duke 
Eefus'd his safeguard ? 

Motli. Have you seen His Grace ? 
Bian. Tes, I have seen him, and Avill not again. 
Bonaventuri ! mj husband ! 

Bonav. Speak ! 
What is it ? 

Bian. Ruin ! Euin, if we stay ; 
Hope, safety, happiness, all things in flight. 
Let it be instant ! 

Bonav. Whither ? And the means ? 
Venice can reach us elsewhere. As well here. 
Bian. ISTo ! not as m'cII. This place is bann'd of Heaven. 
The world elsewhere is all for us to choose. 
BoxAYEXTURi /o/c7s Ms avms about her as 
she hangs on his breast, — the Mother looking on in 
/ speccliless iconder, and 

the Drop falls. 



252 BIANCA CAPELLO 



ACTTHETniRD 

Scene I. As in Actll. Sc. II. 

SiGNORA MalOCUORE. ' 

Entei\ 

in festival dress, Malocuore. 

Se flings himself weariedly on a couch, without removing 

his hat. 

Mai. 'T is monstrous ! Florence stands agape. Fools ask : 
Is this a Prince ? or some great hostile king's 
High servant sent to ratify a peace ? 
And wise men answer low : " Bianca's brother." 
Just as thou seest me, wearied unto death, 
So see a hundred nobles, dragg'd in state 
To swell the triumph of Vittorio, son 
Of a Venetian Senator, [flinging his hat off in disdain. 

Sign. And who 
But thou to blame ? Of all thy fine-wove schemes 
To advance thyself, and stretch thy purse and mine, 
What is the upshot ? O'er thee, step by step, 
Strides Bonaventuri ; and the prude, his w*ife. 
Rides over me and all. 

Mai. Peace ! Fret me not. 



ACT III. sc. 1. 253 

I am not now in mood. 

Sirjn. To list the truth ? . 
'T is wholesome though. Thy aching bones are part 
Of thy just penance ; and my knoit}^ facts 
Shall lash thee to new virtue. 

Mai Well; proceed. 
Only hear me in turn. 

;S'.''^/?. Bianoa houses 
Not in the suburbs in a cottage now, 
But near the Trinitd^ in palace-walls 
That shame our own : her low-born husband rolls 
In wealth beyond his trading master's, holds 
His head above the nobles, with a pride 

Mai Will one day hurl him headlong. But his spouse 
Is gentle stih. Why shouldst thou carp at her ? 

JSign. She treats me with an insolent disdain, 
Or looks me over. 

Mai Ay ; she knows thee well- 

Sign. Ha! 

Mai Was 't not thou that pander'd to the Duke ? 

Sign. At whose base prompting ? If my palm is black, 
Thou- art in to the elbow. Was it I 
That brought Iter to the Court ? I had left her poor. 
Her natural pride"' now swollen by all this pomp, 
With courtiers cringing at her dainty feet 
Who scarcely kiss'd the crown'd Joanna's hand, 
She trifles with the Duke, and plays the chaste, 
While he, the more she frowns, the more adores. 
Is not that so ? 



254 EIAXCA CAPELLO 



Mdl. It is ; but sliall not be ; 
Thougli I deem not, as thou, Bianca feigns. 
Sign. "What neAv plan toward ? [disdainfulhj. 

Mai. Thou knowest the hopes I built 
On the bold Favorite's amour with the Princess ? 
Sign. The base was quicksand. So the fabric fell. 

The dissolute Duchess makes the wife's cheek pale, 
But not her heart. It still beats for her lord, 
Or seems to. 

IFal. I have what will change its pulse. \_Going. 

If site resist this! [holding up for a moment^ at a 

distance^ a sealed letter^ 

Even then I hope. 

A mine will spring the tower which stands a siege. 

[Exit. 
Sign. Subtle maligner ! Thou mayst fathom man, 
But hast no plummet to explore our sex. 
Thou think'st I know thee not. Thou had'st better 

trust me ! 
Thy dallying with the Cardinal I see. 
Beware ! A crafty priest has double craft. 
The mine thou digg'st against Bianca's faith 
May split the rock whereon the miner stands. 

[She turns, as going. And 

Scene closes. 



ACT III. SC. 2. 255 



Scene II. 

A room in the Old Medici Palace (the residence of 
Don Pietro.) 

Isabella. Eleonora. 

Isa. Content tliee. That I fling away my hours 
On Francis' pet, is not the man is bold, 
Or young, or handsome — though I weigh the worth 
Of all these qualities — but that I hate 
His wife. 

Ulco. [in great surprise. 

I thought thou favoredst the Capello ! 
Isa. As thy dear lord, my brother does. In heart 
I loathe her. 

Eleo. And for what ? 

Isa. Because I loathe her. 
What matters it ? ISTot always do we know 
Our cause of hate. 

Eleo. Not always care to know. 
Isa. Or care to know. Be it as thou wilt. So say, 
I am her rival; say, that men desert 
Calypso's isle of dainties for the web 
Of chaste Penelope ; is 't not too much 
The hypocrite should make both thee and me 



256 BIAXCA CAPELLO 

Odious before our lords, and in the court 
Teacli men to estimate our freer lives 
By her stiff model ? Harmless as a dove 
Fools may esteem her ; but the serpent's wisdoms 
Prompts her mock coyness. If Joanna, whom 

, My brother Ferdinand so loves (because 
Her weak spine promises the Duke no heir 
That long shall live.) in her now-coming throes^ 
"Which threaten peril, die, behold a chance 
Bianca may improve ! 

EJeo. Thou art not serious ? 

Isa. Our sire was, who in his later day 

Married Camilla. She was not the peer 
In beauty, worth, or birth of this Capello, 
Francis has cloister'd her,^ but not the less 
Will do as his sire, mad for love as he. 

Eleo, Ah ! this is why the Cardinal and my lord 
Precipitate the ripening of our plot. 

Isa. It will not do. Bernard' Girolami, 

The two Capponi, linger yet in France; 

The Alamanni, Machiavelli, all, 

Though eager, wait their secret coming, ripe, 

f et unresolv'd. The Cardinal But hush!" 

Here comes a doubtful friend. Eleonor', 
Watch well your lips. 

Enter Malocuore. • 

What passes in the town, 



ACT III. sc. 2. 257 



Oood Signor Malocuor ? 

MaJ. May it please your Grace, 
The storm breaks not as yet ; but tliunder rolls 
At tlie horizon. Now the peace is over 
Between the Cardinal and our Sovereign Lord, 
His Eminence' agents stir the popular mind 
With satires on the adventuress, and psalms 
In praise of good Joanna, whose near death 
Must come of Yictor's triumph ! ^ The Capello 
Will not go down to future times a saint. 
If my lord's foes can help it. — Going hence, 
Left my lord Cardinal any charge for me ? 

Isa. None. But be watchful. Thou wilt hear from him 
Perhaps from Rome. 

Mai. I humbly take my leave. 

\_Exit — hy the 

side he had entered. The tivo princesses Exeunthy opposite side."' 



258 BIANCA CAPELLO 



Scene III. 

Room in the Pitti Palace. As in Act II. So. I. 

GrRAND Duke. Don Pietro de' Medici. Duke of 
Bracciano. 

The Grand Dulcc seated. 

Brae. Your Highness has a twofold stake in this. 

Your sister is my spouse, your insolent favorite — 
So let me call him — is her open lover. 
Does Isabella's conduct shame your House, 
His prodigal pomp and measureless assumption 
Wound your chief nobles' pride, and tempt j^our people- 
To mutin}^, clamorous that they are not heard. 

Don P. My liege and brother : Bracciano's words 
Express his wish and motive : my resolve 
Is fix'd. Eleonora shall not make 
My name a byword. 

G. D. [rising.] That thyself hast done. 
Thy wantonness and license are unmatclrd. 
Nor canst thou fling one stone against thy spouse 
Should not rebound on thee. 

Don P. My luxury 
Is not fed from thy treasure. For my spouse, 



ACT III. .^c. 3. 259 

• 

The Arcliducliess' wrongs ra-e not so secret. 

G.D. Ha! — 
Brother, the cleft betwixt us vaAvns too wide 
To need distension. This much is to say : 
I would not have the Duke of Alba wroth. 

Eleonora's death 

Don P. May drive him mad. 
What then ? it is my C|uarrel, none of thine. 
I reck not the Toledos. Mov'd I not 
Don Pedro in this matter ? With what boot ? 
He let not even his sire, Garzia, know. 
But screen'd his strumpet sister in my spite." 

The G. Duke walks up and down a few moments 

in anxious tJioughf, then, turning to the 

Duke of Bracciano : 

G. D. Orsini, will it not suffice for thee 
To shut up Isabella ? Cloister'd life 
Leaves her repentance, yet concludes thy shame. 

Brae. But gluts not vengeance. Sure, my liege o'erlooks 
The Orsini's honor. 

G. D. ITot so, Duke, not so. 
Have not the Medici shed blood enough 
Of kindred veins ? Wouldst thou exact this too ? 
She was my fatlier's darling. It is hard. 

Walks up and down with signs of agitation. 
Then, addressing hoth : 



26(5 BIANCA CAPELLO 



For Boiiaventuri — Let me frankly speak : 
I trust to both jour honors — If I wink 
At his egregious folly, think ye then 
My pleasure goes with my forgiveness ? No, 
He should have died ere this ; but men would say — 
I slew him to ascend Bianca's bed. 
Don P. We will provide for that, so thou wilt promise 
To hold us not to answer for the deed. 

The G. D. stands tliougldfid for a moment. 

G. D. Pietro, our brother Don Giovanni died 
Like rigkteous Abel. The assassin fell, 
Stabb'd by his father, in his mother's arms. 
I will not imitate my brother's crime, 
Nor my stern father's vengeance. 

Brae. And for me ? 
G. D. My sister is thy spouse. I cannot punish 

What, plac'd as thou, I might myself have done. 
[lie hows in sign of dismissal, and 

Exeunt Don P. and Brac^ 

The Grand Duke lool:s after them a 

moment thovghtfuUi/j then moves slowJij toivards the 

chair — and scene changes to 



ACT III. SO. 4. 261 



Scene IY. 

A magnificent room in the palace of Bonaventiiri. 

Enter Bonayenturi, 

leading in with great animation Sexxuccio, 

who follows with marlced reJuctance. 

Bonav. Welcome once more ! A thousand, thousand times, 

Welcome to Florence ! Make this house thy home. 

Command me every way. Why art so grave ? 

Thou v^ouldst have fled me in the public street. 

Couldst thou then think Pietro could be.else 

To Luca than Pietro ? 

Senn. Yea. And there 

Perhaps I did thee wrong. But elsewhere too ? 

Why didst thou flee from Yeniijc? That bad scheme 

Thou wouldst persuade me to ? 

Bonav. [changing color.'] Dost ask me hert^ 

If I be lawful master of my own ? 
Senn, No ; for thou art not. Thou didst steal thy wife. 
Bonav. Sennuccio, I bear much from thee. 

Senn. Is 't not 

True thou didst rob the old man of his child, 

Wlien thou didst suff'er me to think thou wouldst not? 
Bonav. But not to beggary I bore her. Lo ! 



262 BIANCA CAPELLO 



Tlie amends is ample, and the sire appeas'd. 
This day thou sawest her brother, hke a prince 
Attended, ride in triumph to my house ; 
Where he now gladly dwells. 

Senn. The more his shame^ 
Enowing how it was got. 

Bonav. Thou dar'st ! 

Senn. Not say 
One word that is not truth. Wilt thou maintain 
This palace was given by the Duke to thee ? 
Bonav. I do. It is ray meed, and fits my place. 
I have risen in his service step by step. 
All know I am his Favorite. 

Senn. And thy wife ? 
Bonav. His G-raco adores her. But that hurts her not. 

Senn. No ? Yet they say in Florence 

Bonav. What is said ? 
Senn. [hesitating. tJienj shwlij. 

She is to Francis, what Camilla was 
To Cosmo ere he wed her. 

Bonav. 'T is a he 1 
The atrocious slander of the Grand Duke's foes, 
Led by the intriguing Cardinal. Bianca 
From the first warn'd me — still would have me fl3^ 
Senn. Yet thou remainest? — [looJdng at him icith aston- 
ishment 
Let me see thy wife. 
Bonav. Gladly. Come now. Thou then wilt do me right. 
Thou then . 



ACT III. SC. 4. 263 



Enter a Page. 
Well ? 

Page. Be not aiigry^ sir ! The note 
I was bearing to the Duchess, by mischance, 
Or stolen, is lost. I am sure 't is not my fault. 
I miss'd it only when I reach' d the door. 
Bonav. Thou art very careless. Get thee back at once. 
Tell to her Highness thy mishap, and say, 
I will be shortly with her Grace. [Exit Pcuje. 

— iSTow, Luke. 
[cibout to lead him off. 
Senn. Stay yet. What is this Duchess? I have heard 
Strange tales to thy dishonor. Men assert, 

The dissolute Isabella 

Bonav. [luith confusion, yet luitJi vanity. 
a freak ! 
Her Highness shows me favor. 

Senn. As she does 
Her lord's own kinsman. Have a care ! Thou goest 
Straight to thy fldl. Beware the Orsini ! 

Bonav. [impatiently.'] Come. 

As he is leading Sennuccio off^ Bonaventuri stops. 

Say nothing of this letter to Bianca. 

Senn. She then ? 

Bonav. Still loves me dearly. It might grieve her. 
Senn. And is that true? Then thou deserv'^t to fall. 

[Exeunt. 



264 BIANCA CAPELLO 



Scene Y. 

Another Apartment in the Same. 

BiANCA discovered in a dejected attitude. 

Bian. And this is splendor ! this is pleasure ! this 

The world calls happiness! Would I could exchange 
All that is now for v/hat alone was ours, 
When in that humble home I toil'd all day, 
As never yet my father's handmaids toil'd ! 
Then slept I well ; niy cheek was pale indeed, 
But not with sorrow; for my husband's heart 
Was all my own. [Com.cs forward. 

And is it no more mine ? 
Haply, his vanity alone is mov'd. 
Wealth, luxury, the notice of the great, 
All swell his pride. Alas! he will not see 
There be distinctions which arc far from honor. 
Sure of my heart, Avhich well he knows is his. 
He glories in the Duke's mad passion, and counts 
Its harvest only, reckless that the world 
Deems it is gather'd from his partner's shame. 
He comes. And with a stranger. 

Enter Bonayenturi and Sennuccio. 

A grave face 



ACT III. sc. 5. 265 



That pleases me. 

Bonav. Bianca, Avelcome bid 
To Luke Sennuccio, my old Venice friend. 
Bian. All of my husband's friends are welcome here. 
But a true friend, as I have heard you call'd, 
Sits next my heart. From heart then welcome, sir. 

[giving her hand, 
Bonav. Adieu, awhile. Bianca, I have wrung 

Consent from Luke to make liis quarters here. 

^cnn. But 

Bonav. Nay, revoke not ! I shall hold thee bound. 
Keep him engag'd, love, till my spon return, [going. 
Bian. Why must thou go ? Must it be every night ? 
Bonav. 'T is nothing — a mishap. 'T is not for long. 

[ExAt hastily, 
Sennuccio holes after him luith indignation, 
and with j^tg on Bianca. 
Bian. [observing the loolx. 

Pray, mind me not. I ought not to be vex'd. 

I [Recovering with an effort. 

Sir, you are fresh from Venice. Left you then 
The Adriatic in my brother's train ? 
JSenn. JSTo, I have idled in my native town 
Some days. 

Bia7i. And came not once to see my lord ? 
Signer ! And he thought so much of you ! 
JSe7in. I knew not that his feelings were not chang'd. 
The gay, rich courtier, favorite of the Duke, 
Was not my fellow-clerk of former days. 



266 BIANCA CAPELLO 



Bian. You do liim wrong ; his heart is still the same. 
Have you not found it so ? 

Senn. But could I know it ? 
What gave me right to press on his new fortune 
The reminiscence of a rusty time ? 
Bian. Old friendship, and the knowlege you had had 
Of his brave heart. 

Senn. Alas, Signora! when 
I saw in mien the outward man so chang'd, 
ISTeeds must I credit what the people said. 
Bian. What said they? Tell me 1 

^ Senn. Can you bear the truth ? 

Bian. Your quality of plainness I have heard of; 
Oft, for my husband's sake, have wish'd it near. 
I hear nought but from lying lips ; my eyes, 
They serve me, painfully and well. What say 
The folk of Bonaventuri ? 

Senn. Let me first, 
Signora, put a question. Is it true, 
That you have pray'd your husband flee from here ? 
Bian. It is, I think, my daily prayer. 

Senn. And why? 
A pause, 
Bian. Here is not safe for either him or me. ' 
Senn. [soJemnli/.'] It is not safe for either you or him. 
Bian. What mean you ? Ah ! 't is this that I would ask. 
What say the people of us ; of us both ? 
The wrong they do my honor can I help ? 
It is his will, and I submit to bask me 



ACT III. SC. 5. ?67 



In the hot sunshine of the Court. But oh ! 
For the old shadow of my humble life ! 
Not for my father's roof — I Avould not be 
Other than wed, — but for the humble shadow 
Where liv'd my husband all in all to me, 
For I to him was all ! [iyee/95. 

Senn. And is it now 
Too late for this ? 

Bian. For him — not me. He loves 
Too well the pomp of this most wretched life. 
Senii. Wretched indeed 1 where every breath he draws 
Is deadly-perilous to himself, and blasts — 
Pardon ! — the good name of his spouse. 

jBian. 'T is franlc 
This thou hast heard. This is the common fame 
I too have learn'd to read in all I see ; 
For not a whisper yet invades my ears. 
I read it in the wicked eyes, that flash 
Malignant triumph when not bent on mine, 
Then suddenly, Avlien my gaze encounters theirs, 
Look meek as angels', or grow loving-soft. 
I know how busy are the Grand Duke's foes. 
They sow thick calumnies, and the poison-seed 
Will sprout when I am dead. Bianca's name 
Shall be enroU'd with all that in her sex 
Is impudent, artfal, — it may be, debauch'd ; 
And all because the husband that she lov'd 
Was weak. 

Senn. And selfish. 



268 BIANCA CAPELLO 



Bian. No, no; say not that! 
His heart is good : he knows not that I suffer. 

Enter a Page. 

Page. The Signor Malocuore. 

Bian. Let him wait. [Page about to go. 
JSenn. Rather, I take my leave, [going. 

Bian. Go not, I pray. 
Beheve me, I have not Ivnown such relief, 
ISTot since this weary prison-life at Court. 
Or, if you Avill go, you will soon be back ? 
You will not disappoint my husband's hope 
And mine ? 

Senn. I will not : for you are sincere. 
Lady, for your sake, here a day or two 
I will sojourn, 

Bian. So you shall make these walls 
To me more sufferable. [Exit JSeiimiccio, lowing with 
an air of deep respect and sympathy. 
To Page.] Show the courtier in. [Exit Page. 
A brave good man ! How his unburnish'd gold 
Makes vile the tinsel of such knaves as this ! 

Enter Malocuore. 

Mai. Most excehent lady ! if I should intrude 

Bian. At this unwonted hour for him, what brings 
The Grand Duke's confidant ? 



ACT III. sc. 5. 269 



Mai. The present matter 
Looks rather to your houor'cl spouse, than you. 

Taldng from his vest a letter. 
This Avriting- is his hand, I thiuk. The ackh'css 
Is known to you. [gives it. 

BiAXCA regards the letter ivith agitation; 
Malocuore Hatching her Luith ruaiignant ijltasure. 

Bian. [with an effort.'] How came this to your hands ? 
2Ial. "What matters it ? Tlie purport you will find. 
Concerns you nearly^ 

Bian. [recovering^ and luitli sternness. 
Brought it you for that ? 
And hop'd you I would read it? [flings the letter on a 

table. 
Mai. Ilop'd you would, 
In justice to yourself, here ascertain 
The measure of your wrongs. 

Bian. [u-ith increasing sever itg and ivith scorn. 
That with your master 
I might consent to right them ! 

Mai. The redress 
Lies with yourself, Madonna. But, to know 

How grossly you are cozen'd by joiw lord 

Bian. Sir, touch him not ! It is a dastard's part 
To vilify the absent. 

Med. [discomposed. Then, gravely : 
I have done 



270 BIAXCA CAPELLO 



My duty toward a lady whom I honor, 

My lord adores, and my own spouse holds dear. 

[about to go. 
Bian. And has your duty further prompted you 
To ope this missive ? [lifting it. 

Mai. [commanding himself. 
See, madam, for yourself. 
The silken thread, the seal, are still unbroken. 
Bian. Then shall they so remain. [She holds the letter in the 

flame of a candle. 
Mai. What would you do ? 
Bian. Destroy forever wdiat 't wquld shame my lord 
To think I kneAV of, and prevent in you 
The hope that in your absence I would read it. 
'T is done. You know me better now. Good night. 
[Exit — with an expression of 

deep despite — Mai. 
Oh Bonaventuri ! And for thee, for this, 
I gave up all ! [clasping her hands in anguish. 
My heart ! my heart ! my heart ! 

[Buries her face in her hands^ 

soiling. And 

Scene closes. 



ACT III. SC. 6. 2 VI 



Scene VI. 

A sireetj having others crossing it. 

If is starlight On the right, a tvhiter portion of the shrf 

shows the moon to he rising. 

Enter 

Sgherro, Masxadiere, Scherano, Malandrino, 

and other Assassins. 

JSgher. Sclierano, Malandrino, get you quickly 
To the Orsini palace, for the task 

That 's laid out there. The knave that keeps to-night 
The gate will smooth your way. Whisper my name. — 
Make a clean job. You are to use no weapons. 
Ply but your fingers. 

Malan. Captain, let me stay. 
Here is more manly work. 

Sgher. But pays no better. 
Why, thou art nice ! Is not Bravone gone 
To Cafaggiolo, with the bold Lucchesan, 
To rid Don Pietro of his Spanish wife ? 

Malan, But hast thou men enough ? The fop, they say,- 
Is full of mettle ; and the two stout fellows. 
That follow him, look as they would use their swords^ 

JScher, One of them may. The other is bought off. 



'272 BIANCA CAPELLO 



Sgher. "Which makes us six to tvv^o. They must indeed 
Be devils to match us. To thy proper work. 

[^Exeunt ScJier. and Malan. 
Here comes a lantern. 'T is our game. This way. 
The Assassins secrete themselves in one of the cross streets. 

Enter 

BoNAVENTURi, preceded hy Brexna with a Janiern^ 

and followed hy Cagnotto: hoth icell-armed. 

■Bren. We are beset ! [falling hach on the others. 
Bonav. Stand by me, men. 

Bren. {running off.l ISTot I ! 
They are two to one. \_Exit. 

Bonav. Base coward! 

Cagnot. Traitor rather: 
He has carried oiF the light. 

Bonav. We shall not need it. 
The moon is o'er the houses' tops enough 
To let us see their blades. They are on us now. 
Back to the wall, Cagnotto. 

During this dialogue, the Assassins, 

■who had spread themselves out so as to p)revent escape^ 

come forward, Sgherro in advance, to the two, 

who stand with their oachs to the wall. 

Sgher. [to Cagnotto?^ Get thee gone. 
One is our man. . That is not thou. 



ACT iir. sc. 6. 21^ 

Cagnot. [cut'inj liim doiun.'] It is 
For thee. 
An Assassin. Thou hast made me, Captain, Thanks! 

. [wounding Cagnot. , who falls^ 
Cagnot. Master, I have done yon service. See me paid. 

. [Dies^ 
Bonav. {running the assassin tlirougli. 

'T is done, m}^ brave. So, [disahling another. 

Halt, yon other three j 
What would you ? Money ? Take it. Let me hence^ 
And ten times o'er the amount is yours to boot. 
Ifasn. Coin thy blood into ducats if thou Al41t, 

'T is in thy- veins alone we seek them. Thus. 
All three remaining Assassins rush on Boxayenturi at oncCj. 
luhOj after an animated resistance and repeated 
. wounds^ falls. 
Bonav. Bianca ! Thou 'rt — aveng'd ! 

JIasn. The Orsini too. 
Quiet? [leaning over the hodg. 
Assass. This will make sure, [raising his lueapon. 

Masn. Ko ! 'T is cnougli^ 
He has fought bravely, and our work is done. 
The Ifoonj now risen over the houses^ tops^ 
throws its light upon the group. 
The Assassins disperse, leading off their wounded comrade, and 

Scene closes. 



274 BIANCA CArELLO 



Scene YII. 

In the Orsini Palace. The hedchamber of Isabella. 

Isabella asleep. 
Beside the led, on a stand, a taper and a silver hand-bell. 

Enter, a-tiptoe, 

ScHERANO and Malandrino. 

They speah in an wider-tone. 

Sche}'. Shall I awake her ? 

Malan. Ko, 't is better thus. 
Going to the bed.'] A most fair creature ! 

Scher. Let us wake her then, 
And hear her prayers. What ho ! Your Highness ! Up ! 
Isa. Who are you ? Ah ! \she starts up and rings the bell. 
Scher. Cry, ring. There are no ears. 
The Duke has taken especial care of that. 
Isa. [ivildlg.] Has my lord sent to murder me ? 

Malan. Even so. 
Isa. Let me escape 1 I am not fit to die. 

I will make j^ou richer far than he will do. 
My brothers too will heap wealth on you both. 
Scher. Which of them ? Don Pietro's wife even now 
By her lord's will is gomg where you shall go. 



ACT III. sc. T. 275 



Isa. [sinl-ing hacl\] Accursed House of Medici ! 

Scher. Ay, so 
Say I! Amen! I would we were well-rid 
Of all the race. 

Isa. Have mercy ! Take this ring. 
*T is worth a thousand ducats. 

Malan. [taking it] 'T will not save you. 
Sche)\ Quick to 3'our prayers. Your lover by this time 
Is well carv'd up. 

Isa. Troilo Orsini ? 

Malan. No, 
Bonaventuri. 
Isa. [falling hack again.] God is just! 

Scher. [pressing a pillow over her face.] Why so; 
'T is a good prayer. — Thou dost nought, Malandrino I 
Malan. [sullenhj. 

My hands were made to clutch an iron sword-hilt, 
Not to choke women. 

Seller. Only take their rings. 
*T is nice distinction ! 

Isa. Oh! 
Scher. "What! not yet done? 
Thou art strong, to be so fair. [A piciuse. He lifts the 

pillow. 
Still now. 
Malan. Come then. 
I 'd rather kill ten men than do this over. 

Exeunt — Malan. looking hack 
npon the heel, as he moves. 



276 BIANCA CAPELLO 



Scene YIII. 

In Bonaventiiri's palace. As in Scene V. 

BoNAVENTURi lying on a couch. 

At Ins Jieadj one on either side, the Couj^t Phijsicians: 

Baldini and Cappellt. Btanca hnceling 

hy the Couch^ holding his 

hand clasped in hers. Sennuccio standing at 

the foot. 

Bian. Thou sbalt have justice ! Thou shalt hear it vow'd 

By his own hps! Thy spirit shall go down, 
. Unto the biding-place of all the dead, 

Appeas'd ! Vittorio will bring back the Duke. 

He has pray'd me test his friendship. I have kueel'd 

But once for favor ; I will kneel once more, 

And thy poor bleeding wounds, belov'd Pietro, 

Shall cry with rae for vengeance. — 

Bonav. [feebly. ] He will come — 

Too late : my life — ebbs fast. 

Bian. Have mercy, God ! 

Sustain him jet awhile, renow^n'd Baldini 1 

Master Cappelli,^" is all art in vain ? 
Bald, [feeling the lurist of the hand, Bianca abandons to hinx. 

Alas, Signora ! all that art can do 



ACT m. SC. 8. 277 



Is now to watch its own prognostications 
Fatally realiz'd. 

Capp. [feeling the other icnsf. 
If your honor'd spouse, 
Lady, has aught at heart he fain would utter, 
Let him be quick. This draught will give him strength, 
Tet a brief space. [Bonav. drinls. 

Bonav. Bianca! 

Bian. [kissing his hand. 
Speak, beloved ! 
Thy will shall be my law. 

Bonav. [reviving. 

Canst thou — forgive me ? 
Bian. Thou hast done no wrong; none that I ever ponder'd 

With aught but sorrow — sorrow for thyself. 
Bonav. Thou knowest not all. That night — we fled from 

Venice 

Puiise me. — Still higher. Doctor. Thank you. — Then, 
When on the stairs I left you — to make sure, ^ 

I said, that all was safe — I stole away " 

To — shut the portal of 3*our father's house, 
That barr'd return for aye. Breath! breath, God ! 

BoxAVEXTURT, panting. — A brief pause. 

Bian. Be sooth'd. 'T was passion made thee to forget 
Duty and honor. I have not repented. 
Save for my father's sake, to have fled from home. 
I have liv'd happy, till — till 



278 EIAXCA CAPELLO 



Bonav. Till I wrong'd tliee. 
I am justly punisli'd. Seek not — to avenge me. 

Sennuccio Oh ! — The draught ! the draught, 

Cappelh ! 

Drinks again. Pause. 
Quickly ! My last sand 's running out. Bianca — 
Take to thy heart — Sennuccio. A true friend, 
He did abhor my — treachery. Let him be — 
Warmly commended — to my lord the Duke. 
He will — well serve him — as I — ne'er have done. 

Enter Tittorio Capello. 

Bian. [starting up eagerly. 
Is his Grace coming? 

Vitt. News had rcach'd the Palace, 
The Lady Isabella and the spouse 
Of Don Pietro suddenly were dead. — 
Bonav. Murder'd ! — Heaven's justice ! — Murder'd ! 

Falls hacJcj gasping^ info the arms of the attendants, 
Vitt. The Grand Duchess, 
Hearing, was seiz'd with travail premature, 
And cannot live beyond the hour. 

Tlie Physicians, already in excitement, 

hastily resigning Boxaventuri to Sennuccio, make for 

the door, hut pause on the sill, as Bonavexturi, 

springing up half-erect, exclaims to Bianca: 



ACT III. sc. 8. 279 



Bonav. ^ly star 
Is set! I see — ascend the whitening sky, 
Lord of the duy — thy planet ! Hail, Grand Duchess ! 

Falls bad'. 
Thus — Bonaventuri's murder — is aveng'd — 
And thou — art rccompens'd. [Dies. 

Senn. It is all over. • ' 

With a piercing shrieh^ Bianca 

throws herself upon the hodij. The Physicians, 

one instant more lingering, hurry from the scene, 

ViTTORio, ivith hands folded, holes from the foot of 

the couch upon the corpse, and Sennuccio 

at the head bends over it, and 

slowly 

The Drop falls.'' 



280 BIANCA CAPELLO 



AcTTnEFoURTII 

Scene I. A saloon in in the Pltli Palace. 

DoNXA Virginia and Sigxora Malocuore. 

Sign. How does your Highness like licr for a sister ? 
Virg. Well. 

Sign. "Well? But for a mistress? 

Virg. Even as much. 

I find hor nothing chang'd. Our Sovereign Lady 

Is the Signora Bonaventuri still. 
Sign. Ay, so I think her. She can never bo 

Aught but the widow of a banker's clerk, 
Virg. But that is not my meaning. She was ever 

More than the Favorite's wife. A noble lady, 

Who still has been the pattern of our sex, — 

Whose virtues have no rivals but her graces, — 

And those scarce match'd. ^ly brother lias done well. 

Did not the proud liepublic this day crown her 

Their royal daughter, she were still his peer. 
Sign. You do surprise mo. Have her witch's-arts 

Enchanted too your Highness ? ^' 

Virg. You forget, 

Signora !Malocuor, of whom you speak. 

The Grrand Duke's bride, Bianca, has no art3 



ACT lY. SC. 1. 281 



Save those wliicli nature tauglit lier. I had thought 
The rabblement alone boUev'd such tales. 

Sign. I did but jest. I was, knovv'S not your Grace? 
Donna Bianca's first and fastest friend. 
Well pleas'd am I to find your Highness' heart, 
So far as the young prince, Don Caesar's right 
Permits, is given so well. But may I ask, 
Does the Grand Duchess give hers in return ? 

Virg. She does to all who love her. Even her foes 
May boast her kindness. 

Sign. Yet your Highness' mother — 
Pray pardon me — is pining, cloister'd still. 

Yirg. That is my brother's fault, not hers. 

Sign. She has 
The power however to move that brother's heart. 
She us'd it for the Cardinal, her foe. 
Why not for you ? 

Virg. My mother was as kind. 
And for the Cardinal did what she has done, 
Open'd the royal coffers. Why has not 
The Cardinal, who pretends to love my mother, 
In gratitude mov'd the Duchess to this act ? 

Sign. Haply for that he knew it were in vain. 

Virg. I will essay. In this high festal time, 
Fill'd to the brim with joy and happy pride, 

The Duke's heart may flow over 

Sign. But not her3» 

Virg. [ivitJiout noticing the interruption. 

— And the rich superflux make glad the heart 



282 BIAXCA CAPELLO 



Of Cosmo's lonely widow. — Do not stir. 

[as Sign, attends her goin^, 
I need you not, Signora. [Exit. 
Sign, [returning^ after seeing Virginia ceremonious'ly through 
the door.l ^Vhy not say : 

" Of the Grand-duchess dowager " ? Artless fool I 
That hast a child's heart with a woman's head. 
The daughter of Camilla, thou dost well 
To take Bianca's part : thy upstart dam 
Was such another mushroom, vain and proud, 
And beautiful as she. Come but the day 
That Ferdinand shall mount his brother's throne, 
The fate of the new Duchess is like hers, — 
Or hapl}'- worse, for the proud Churchman hates her. 
And yet — methinks — he loves her too, with love 
After his fashion, like his father's son. 
I must watch this. Camilla freed or not, 
St. Mark's new daughter shall not win thereby. [Exit, 



ACT IV. SC. 2. 283 



Scene II.« 

A hall in the same. 

Enter J 

from opposite sides, 

Don Pietko and the AiicnEisnop of Pisa. 

The lait'.r stojjping ceremonioushj for the Prince to pass, 

Don Pietro goes up to him. 

Don P. Well met, Archbishop. 'T is a glorious day 
For the Ca23cllo. 

Archb. And for you, my lord ? 

Don P. Even as you see. I, with the bastard John, 
^vlarshaVd the guard of honor at the Gate 
Right Avillingiy, By Heaven! it was a show I 
You, who with Abbioso and the rest 
Met at Firenzuol the pompous train," 
Can Avitncss that. And when the pageant pass'd 
Petween our glittering lines, amid the roar 
Of cannon, and the peal of all the bells, 
I thought how Cardinal Ferdinand Avould wince; 
And that was joy for me. 

Archl). Alas, my lord I 
That you will visit with this evil will 
Your pious brother I 



28i BIAKCA CAPELLO 



Don. P. My pious brother! Is 't 
Of Cosmo's son you speak ? Or think you well 
I take for holy all a Churchman's cap, 
Mitre or hat may cover ? You do right 
Perhaps to love lum. 'T was his hand that laid 
The first step in your scale of fortune. "What 
Have I to thank him for ? That he was got 
Before me ? He has cause to dread, and hates, 
Bianca : she may bear Francesco sons. 
I have no cause for either fear or hate. 
Dies the Grand Duke without heirs male, upstarts 
My Cardinal brother, doffs the purple, and takes 
His coveted place. Sometimes he makes me blind 
To his dark views, and presses me to marry. 
But now and then comes daylight, and I see 
Clearly — as now. 

Archb. Your Grace will yet admit 
His Eminence is sincere, when once consider'd 
'T is not the Duke's new marriage is oppos'd, 
But marriage with the Intendant's widow, unmeet 
For Cosmo's heir and Cosmo's ancient blood, 
Unmeet to follow union with the House 
Of Hapsburg. To succeed the late Grand Duchess, 
The Emperor Eodolph gladly had bestow'd 
A child of Archduke Charles. Such match had pleas'd 
My lord the Cardinal, 

Don P. Think you so ? What then ? 
What is our blood that it should scorn Capello*s ? 
Is it so many more than tenscore years, 



ACT IV. sc 2. 285 



Since AveradOj son of the Lucclicsan, 

PortionVl his mighty fortune, got by trade, 

Between his six sons ? whence arose our House. 

Not then the triple flower-de-luce emblaz'd 

The middle roundle of our shield in chief. 

Our power was all, — nor that without dispute; 

Our rank a usurpation ; and our title ? 

Why, know not all men, fifty years agone 

Our l)cnst still ramp'd where gleams the lilied crown ? " 

Ood's might ! the throne of Clement's bastard son, 

^Founded by perfidy on public wrong, 

Is all too new, that his unlineal heirs 

Should in the second generation vaunt 

A scarce-acknowledg'd royalty." 'T is trick I 

By holy John, as patent as this hand I 

Bid Ferdinand scorn Camilla ? Yet was she 

No equal of Bianca. Lo, this day, 

Adopting her the daughter of the State, 

The proud Republic crowns our Duchess queen, 

Peer of the Queen of Hungary and her 

Who sat in Cyprus. Why is he displeas'd ? 

Because her lord is Cosmo's eldest son. 

'Camilla could not bear a male should be 

His senior. No, Archbishop, it is not 

The Archduchess Ferdinand would choose, but one 

He knows the Grand Duke would not choose. 

Arclib. My lord, 
I cannot credit this. The Cardinal Prince 
Is holy. 



286 EIAXCA CAPELLO 



Don p. You may say so. Eut you are 
A man, Del Pozzo, of no common mind. 
You know the Cardinal is a worldly princo 
And an unmatcli'd dissembler. 

Erder Abbioso. 

Is 't not so, 
Good Bishop ? 

Ahh. Pleases it your Grace to speak 
Of what and whom ? 

Do7i P. Of my pure brother, pious 
Cardinal Ferdinand. Holdst thouliim a saint ? 
Ahh. My 02:)inion of the Cardinal is known. 
I love him not. 

Don P. With reason. Late at Pome 
He holp to make St. Peter's Yicar loath 
To hoist thee to the half Pistoian see : 
Ah, Abbioso ? Get thee quickly hence 
To the Lagunes. In thy new function there, 
Bland Secretary, serve thy liege lord Francis, 
Near the Pregadi.*' Here thou shalt not quarrel 
With Holy Churck 

Archh. I would, your Grace, that none 
Might quarrel here. Our sovereign is the lord 
Of his own will. What pleases him to do, 
In his born right, that should content us also. 
And Avith a virtuous and high-bred fair dame, 
As is our Lad}^, even the Cardinal must 



ACT IV. sc. 2. 287 

In time be pleas'd. 

Don P. So let him be or not. 
Philip of Spain approves. Though Austria murmur, 
Spite the whole College and the Pope to boot 
Others will show like sense. — But time calls off. 
We must prepare us to attend in pomp 
Tire -solemn crowning of the titular Queen, 
And the rcnew'd high nuptials. How will like 
Your Cardinal that? 

Abb. He has sent one gentleman 
To watch the game and make report ; himself 
Too busy with affairs of Heaven to come. 
Z>on P. An impotent insult. Laugh you not, Archbishop? 
Archb. I knov/ nouglit impotent in the hand or head 
Of the lord Cardinal. {^Exit Don Pietro. 

Abb. No ; nor in his fangs. 
The Medici are venom'd serpents all. 
Archb. Have care, Ottavio ! I am known no traitor^ 
Or thou hadst never risk'd that thrust. 

Abb. I hope 
The new-create Grand Duchess may not prove 
Its point prophetical. Let her, I say. 
Beware the Cardinal Medici's venom'd fang! -" 

I Exeunt at opposite sides. 



288 BIAXCA CAPELLO 



Scene III. 

The Grand Duchess's Apartment in the same. 

BiANCA, magnificenthj arrayed, hut without the royal mantle. 
Virginia, tvho has her hand in Blanco's. On their 
ri'jhtj a little behind, Bianca^s daughter Pellegrina U'i'yi 
her husband Eentivoglio. On the left, at a like dis- 
tance, SiGNORA MaLOCUORE. 

Enter 

Capello, luith the Patriarch o/Aquileia. 

Behind them, Vittorio. 

Bian. It shall be so, Yirginia. Doubt it not. 

Virginia retires beside the Signora — on luhom she 
looks triumphantly. 
O my dear father ! Uncle ! May I deem 
This day makes full requital for the past ? 
^' The sorrow that I caus'd thee, the dishonor 
Brought, though I meant it not, upon thy House ? 
Cap. Tso more of that, my child. 'T was not thy crime. 
The good Sennuccio has disclos'd me all. 
Know'st thou, Bianca — did thy brother tell thee, 
How I had hung thy picture all with black, 
That day I lost thee ? how the veil was drawn, 
When the Duke's favor shining on thy spouse 



ACT IV. SC. 3. 289 

Made him thy equal ? But when Sforza came^ 
Praying- the Senate to receive as son 
Of Venice the Great Duke himself; and when, 
Like Catharine Cornaro, thou wast made 
The Child of the Republic, and a Queen ; 
Then did I cause a crown surmount the frame. 
But 't was not needed : Titian, had he liv'd, 
Had pointed to the air of native pride "^ 
That dignifies thy beauty, and had said : 
^' Superfluous decoration ! jSTature gave 
A better diadem. And that I drew. 
Lo, where in every trait the destin'd Queen I " 
Is it not true, Grimani ? my child ! 
Thou wast my darling ever, my best joy ; 
Thou art my glory now, my House's pride. 
Pair. The will of Heaven works oft by humble ways. 
That jewel his bold subject stole and wore 
The Duke hath made the centre of his crown. 
Keep thou, gem, thy lustre without flaw ! 
So shall the people bless thee. — Francis comes. 

Enier 

tJte Gkaxd Duke, attended hy Sexnuccio. 

The G. D. is spJendidly attired^ hut luitliout his roles of 

state. Senxuccio also, Wee all the other 

persons present^ is in fall costume as for some 

extraordinary occasion of Court-festival. 

Cr. D. Good morrow, friends. — Bianca ! My fair Queen ! — 



290 BIANCA CAPELLO 



Senxuccio, icitli Capello, cDc, tahes his 
place ivith the other personages in the hachgroimd. 
How well tliis pomp becomes thee ! Thou art now 
A jewel fitly set. And yet, believe, 
Thy lustre shines not more m Francis' eyes 
Kow than that morn, when, from the little window, 
Like a rich picture in a sorry frame, 
That sweet face dawn'd a moment on his gaze ; 
ISTot more ador'd than when, a twelvemonth since, 
Thy heart first open'd to the houseless love 
That long had knock'd in vain to be let in. 
■ Yet do I joy, for thy sake, joy for mine, 
^^ Joy for the oJTspring, hope of which I nurse 
. For my throne's heritage, our love's glad contract 
This day shall ratify before the world. 
And thou, whose worth needs not the gilt of rank, 
Shalt by thy country, even for that worth, 
Be dower'd with those distinctions which alone 
The world will value. Thy true crown is here. 

\]iis hand 07i his hreast. 
Bian. There will I strive to wear it. But, my lord. 
We who live in the world, and for the vrorld 
Live chiefly, must our living even so rule 
That the world shall not say we live not well. 
That w^e do right, should satisfy ourselves. 
And may, we hope, the Almighty; but, for men. 
One thing is needed more, — that, doing right, 
We seem to do so. "■* When Your Highness' brother, 
The Cardinal Ferdinand, found me at your side 



ACT IV. SC. 3. 291 



111 your sick hour, not knowing wc were wed, 

His wrath was rous'd. Even so the hard-judging 

world, 
Untaught, had frown'd on my best act of duty ; 
And your own love, that should have rais'd its object, 
While blessing, would have robb'd her of her fame. 
But for this cause, believe me, dear my lord, 
Bianca had been happy unacknowledg'd, 
Blest in thy love, content to be thy spouse. 
" Twice happy am I now my fatherland. 
Not for my merits,- but to honor thee. 
Hath given me, for the thousand gifts I ov^-e 
Thy matchless love, to make some small return, 
Lifting me to thy side more like thy mate. 
Thou shalt not find me derogate. Was I aught 
As humble Bonaventuri's w^ife, I shall 
Be ten times more, high-plac'd as Francis' spouse, 
Endeavoring so to live, as not to shame 
Thy crown, nor that which Venice this day gives. 

G. D. But worthier in thyself, than didst thou v\'ear 
A crown imperial. Come ; the hour is nigh 
Shall tell the world, not me, what thou deserv'st. 
Sweet, let us to the robing-room. 

Bian. Yet first 
I have a grace to sue. Wilt grant it, love ? 

G. D. What canst thou ask, that Francis will not grant? 

Bian. Virginia's mother, twelve long years confin'd 
In a dull cloister : set her free, my lord. 
And make Virginia happy, and herself. 



292 EIAXCA CArELLO 



G. D. Knowcst thou -what this mother was ? In league 
With Ferdinand, using aye in his behoof 
The power o'er Cosmo's doting- heart she never 
Once turn'd to good account, fomenter still 
Of discord 'twixt us brothers, and betwixt 
Our sire and us, now let her out thou add'st 
Another to thy secret foes and mine. 
But I have never yet deny'd thee aught. 
I will not now, this happy hour. — Virginia ! 
That day thy hand is given, as thy heart, 
To the young lord of Este, shall thy mother 
Revisit the gay world. Let her beware 
So to employ her freedom, that the gift 
Be not revok'd. Nay, kneel not unto me; 
Kiss the Grand Duchess' hand. And bid thy mother 
Remember it is she unbars the door, 
Not Ferdinand. — 
^5 YiRGixiA attempts to Jcneelto Bianca, and Jciss 

her Jianclj Bianca draws her to her hosomj and kisses heron 
the forehead. 
Ah, gentle love ! — Noav come. 

Exeunt Omnes: the Gr. D. and Bianca leading ; 

behind them the Patriarch and CArELLo; behind these 

Yirgixia and Vittorio ; the7i Pellegrixa and Bextivoglio; 

andjlnally Sexnuccio and Sigxoka Malocuore. 



ACT IV. sc. 4. 293 



Scene IV. 

A cabinet in tlie Cardinal d^ Medici's palace at Rome. 

The Cardinal, walking to and fro ivith signs of 
discomposure. Malocuore, standing. 

Card. Go on. 

Mai. I fear your Eminence will lose 
Your patience. 

Card. Patience ? Hast tliou liv'cl so long 
To wear a beard, and know'st not, what affects 
The heart with sudden sorrow, or wounds self-love, 
Falls with as passionate impulse on the sense 
As news that flatters vanity ? By how much 
Hate is of more vitality than love, 
By so much lend I now the readier ear 
In that thy theme offends me. On ! go on ! 

Mai. When the Ambassador, Count Mario Sforza* 

Of Santa Flora 

Card. Spare me. ISTeed'st thou specify 
His titles ? Add then, Francis-Mary's minion, 
And the Yenet his Venice woman's tool. 

Mdl. — Brought back the State's diploma of paternity, 
My lord despatch'd the Prince, Don Giovannino, 
To thank the Senate. 

Card. A boy but twelve years old! 



294 EI.VNCA CAPELLO 



Apt messenger for sucli unworthy errand ! 

Mai. Then, 
Two of her foremost senators were sent 
By Venice, Tiepolo and Michieli, 
To invest her daughter with the parent's rights. 
With these ambassadors came ninety nobles, 
Both of the sea-girt city and the main ; 
Such a proud troop as never the Repubho 
Even in her pahiiiest fortune sent before. 
What but hke pomp should answer it ? The Court, 
The Cabinet, all Florence boasts of great 
Or noble, throng'd to meet the imposing train ; 
Whereof, not least conspicuous for glad zeal, 
Shone out my lord, the Prince, Don Pietro. 

Card, [stopping ill his ivalk.'] Ah! 
Say'st thou ? 'T is most hkely. 
In an under hut hitter tone, and re- 
suming his luallc.'] Renegade ! 
Afal. All the Capello's house and kin were there, 
From the G-rand Duchess' sire and uncle down 
To tl?e last gentleman that boasts their blood. 
You had thought them monarchs, conquerors at the 

least. 
Thunder'd the cannon, and the bells rung out 
From every tower, as the Sovereign's guests 
Enter'd the Sovereign's Palace. 

Card. Who? 

Mol The House 
And Idn of Senator Capello. 



ACT IV. sc. 4. 295 



Card. All? 
Mai. To the last gentleman that boasts his blood. 
Card. What! IsTot enough to house the sire and brother? 

Must the herd batten \Yhere my father fed ? 
Hal. The sire goes back : but not the brother ; Avho gets 
A pension his male issue will inherit, — 
His daughter to be dower'd. 

Card. Holy Paul I 
This passes all endurance. What ! must I, 
His father's son, be scanted and put off 
In my emergence, that a foreign vermin 
May pierce the fisc at Avill ? — Vriiat more ? 

Mai. 'T is said^ 
The expenses of the marriage, reckoning all, 
Erom the first mission to the crowning-rite, 
Will make three hundred thousand ducats told. 
Card. That while a dearth is pressing sore the land, 
And his born subjects pine for simple bread ! 
Lord, how long shall the crown'd sons of pride 
Abase their loan'd prerogatives, and make 
The sad earth doubt Thy justice ? 

MaJ. And for one 
Not meriting such fortune. 

Card, [roiigldy.] Who is that? 

By Heaven, thou ! 

Correcting himself.] Thou mistak'st me much. I meant 
Not to impute the fault to her. 

Mai. [iiisimiatingJi/.] I thought 
Your Eminence had hated the Grand Duchess. 



296 BIAXCA CAPELLO 

Card. Should that prevent my knowledge of her due ? 
Her natural gifts of To the tale. Proceed. 

Mai. '^ The Ambassadors exprcss'd the Senate's joy, 
That the two cities, henceforth close afiin'd 

Card. Pass all that, — as in time it all will pass. 

Mai xVnd giving to the daughter of the Stafe, 
In the paternal name, a most rare jewel 

Card. And tliat. Come to the crowning act. 

Mai The crown ? 

Card. Conferr'd this day, I think, 

Mai. About this hour, 
In the Great Hall, most lavishly adorn'd. 
Before the Eight and Forty of the Senate, 
The Grand Duke, on his throne, receives the Duchess, 
Who enters royally array'd, led in 
By the Ambassadors, the wdiole gorgeous train 
Of Venice nobles following. She takes 
Her seat beside him. The diploma redd, 
And ratify'd, of the conceded honors. 
The diadem is set on her fair brow, 
The nuptial ring is interchang'd anew. 
And, Avearing still the crown, the titular Queen, 
Her lord beside her, marches to the Church, 

The heroine of a triumph 

Card, \_musuighj, and resuming his luaJh 
'T is too late 
Now to regret. I should have lik'd to see it, 

Afal. Ay, it will prove a rare burlesque. 

Card. Burlesque! 



ACT IV. 9C. 4. 207 



Wliat mcan'st thou ? She will well become the crown — 
I mean in beauty and in gentle pride. 

MusihfjJij. 
Methinks I sec her now ; her gliding step, 
"Which scarce Avas motion, settled to a pace 
'Of quiet majesty ; her radiant smile, 
So proud *yet sweet withal, though beaming still, 

Yet less dillusive in its light; her eyes 

Ah, there the ethereal fire, which Earth subdues 
"With its most tender passions ! that soft flame 
Which might convince an infidel, for there 
The Soul and Heaven give out immortal signs 

During tins spol^en meditation^ the Cardinal 

has turned his back on Malocuork. Now starting, as if 

recollecting Jtimsclfjie faces suddenly about and sees 

Malocuork watching him intentlg, tcho at once 

drojjs his eges; and the Cardinal resumes. 

Thon scem'st to think it strange I can admire 

"What all men must admire. 'T is not to love. 

Besides this lady still has been for me 

Most amiable and wooing. 

Mat. T have thought 

But pardon me, your Grace. I did forget. 
Card. What wouldst thou say? I pardon no reserve. 

Mai Yet, my lord's station, and our Holy Church 

Card. Is 't that ? Were not the Apostles flesh and blood? 

Thou 'dst speak, I see, of me and of Biaiica. 



298 BIA^X'A CAPELLO 

What hast thou seen ? Speak out ! Thou hast thought 
— thou saidst — 

Mai. I have thought at times, m}- lord, your brother's spouse 
MeasurM your lair pi'oportious Avith an eye 
Of capable relish. The Grand Duke is comely; 
But my loid Cardinal's youth and finer features 

Card. Thou art a serpent. Thiuk'st thou I am Adam? 
I hanker not for the Forbidden Fruit. 
Dream'st thou I do ? 

Mai. My lord would not, I sec, 
Admit me to his confideuce. 

Card. Ilecausc 
I have no seci'ct. The Venetian is 
Mv i)rothei-"s spouse. That he has made this choice 
Displeases me, because it v.Tongs our House, 
And mars its inlluence with foreign Courts. 
Thei-efbi-e I view her with such evil will 
As may beseenr a Christian and a prince 
Of Holy Church. I do admire her too, — 
Esteem her worthy even of a ciown, 
Were that not what it is. But love her ! — I 
Forgive thee, Maloeuorc. We will talk 
Further anon. [Exit Malocuor. 

The Cardinal looJxs after him a moment icith an expression 
of triumph and disdain. 

Make thee my confidant I — 
I will, so far as suits me ; not so far 



ACT IV. sc. 4. 299 



As make thee, dog I my master. Xo, let fools 
Unlock their hearts to knaves. The key to mine 
Lies only in my keeping, and shall ever. — 
And to betray a love I shame to own 
Even to myself! Xot that Bianca is 
My brother's spou?e. ''' My father lov'd my sister : 
And his last Avife raethinks was fond of me. 
And but I Avas too young, perhaps in turn 
I had lov'd her too. I put her though to use. 
She was my reservoir ; I drew from her 
The gold Francesco could not, and for which 
He hated me. But I should shame to own 
I love his Favorite's widow, when for like love 
I scorn him, as I hate him doubly too. 
If aught indeed can double hate like mine. 
"^ And her too I shall use — if not for pleasure, 
For profit. What imply those words that came, 
"Wrapp'd with the picture I had pray'd to have? 
Talrs, from a draiuGr of an open 
tvritlng -table ^ a miniature^ incased^ and a 
letter. Opening the latter he appears to read 
in it. Then: 

^ She cannot live without me f [pause. 

— Lives in me f [pause. 
Is it the simple passion of her nature 
Lends her these phrases; for her way is loving 

And tender unto all ; or ? We shall see. 

This coronation over Would the crown 



300 BIAXCA CAPELLO 



Were fire to burn lier temples, tliongh I would 
So gladly ieel them beat against my heart! 
This over, she shall see me at her wish, [pause. 
'" jSTo, it were better first to wTite. I will — 
Will test her kindness. She shall use her hold 
.*)n my weak brother's heart to unlock his treasure. 
I need fresh means. His hand, which never shuts 
"When a show 's promis'd or an artist sues, 
Closes, perhaps instinctively, to me, 
As if he felt his gold would prop the lever 
That shakes his throne. Ah ! when that throne shall 

crumble 
To pieces at my touch, to be rebuilt 
For a more resolute ruler; when the wrong 
Which nature did me when she made him hrst. 

Though I was meant for government As yet 

See I but darkly what my soul bids do 
To rectify this wrong ; but what I do 
Shall be so done 't will not need doing over. 

When I throw off this purple which I hate 

But where wilt then fJiou be ? [gazing on the miniature. 

Or being, luhafj 
What wilt thou then be? — Mine thou shalt be, 

or! 

I hate thee as I love thee [l-issiug i^^^'^'sionafelg the glass.]: 

't seemeth now, 
As I gaze on that proud, yet winning smile, 
Which woos yet mocks me, seems it to me now, 
As I could kiss and choke thee at one breath. 



ACT lY. SC. 5. 301 



Accurs'd enchantress ! Such my tools have made 
The credulous crowd believe thee. And thou art ! 
Thou art ! But thy enchantments are all here. 

Gazing on the miniature a moment, lie 

closes the case, and walks up to the luriting-tablej to replace ifj 

and Scene closes. 



Scene Y. 
Florence. The Great Hall in the Piiti Palace. 

The Grand Duke, icearing the grand-ducal crown 
and roheSj and seated on his throne, surrounded hy the Senate 

of Forty-eight, and the Magistrates in a semicircle on 
either side. Within the crescent, on his right, Don Pietro, the 

Duke of Bracciano, Don C^sar d' Este, Arch- 
Bisnop of Pisa, Abbioso, <hc. On the left Donna Yirginia, 

Pellegrina, Signora MALCCUORE-awcZ other ladies. 



302 BIANCA CAPELLO 



The Hall J magnificently draped^ is hung luith hanners^ d'C, 

and the ivhole Court is in sumptuously festal and 

solemn array. 

On either side a line of soldiery extending up to the 

throne^ with hanners of arms^ &c., among 

luhich those of Venice are 

conspicuous. 

A grand hurst of music, 
and Enter 
in royal roles, her train home vp hy two Pages, Bianca 

conducted hy the two Venetian Ambassadors, 

and foUowed immdiately hy Bartholomew Capello and the 

Patriarch, and en suite hy Yittorio. and a long train 

of Venetian nohles gorgeously appareled. 

G. D. [descending the steps hefore his throne. 

Our well-belov'd, right royal Duchess ! Sit 
Bodily at our hand, who in our heart 
In spirit art ever thron'd. [Places her on the throne and 

sits heside her. 
Rever'd Capello ! 
Our lady's noble fatlier; thou, grave Patriarch, 
Her honor'd uncle and ours ; be seated near. 

[They take their places on his right. 
Our sometime Auditor, most Reverend Sire 
In God, Archbishop Antony of Pisa, 
Read the diploma of St. Mark's adoption, 
For which cause sit we here. 



ACT lY. SC. 5. 303 



Archl). [reading. 

In the high name 
•Of the august Eepubhc, we the Doge 
And joint Pregadi. wishing to attest 
"Our deep sense of the many and rare virtues 
Which render worthy of the highest fortune 
Blanche, daughter of tlie Senator Capeho, 
Whom the Grreat Duke of Tuscany has wed, 
And to do honor to the Great Duke's self, 
Adopt her as the daughter of the State, 
Conceding unto her the rank and title 
Of Queen of Cyprus, with all high prerogatives 
And honors which to the adoptive parent 
Of right belong. 

G. D. Speak ye, the Ambassadors 
Of Venice, Excellent Signori Tiepolo 
And Michieli, is that your Senate's voice ? 

Tiep. It is. 

Mich. We ratify it, and pronounce 
By virtue of our warrant, in the name 
Of Holy Mark, the Lady Blanche Capello 
True and legitimate Child of the Republic. 

Tiep. In whose high name we place this royal crown 
On her fair brows. 

The Ambassadors crown her^ — Biaxca 
advancing and standing up. 

Both. \ Long live the Queen Bianca ! 



804 BIANCA CAPELLO 

Venetian 



,^ ,, , Live Queen Bianca! 
Nobles. 



The Guards^ presenting arms^ and their stand' 
ard-hearers ivaving all the banners, join in the 
cry. A hurst of music. 

Patriarch. 'T is the Senate's wish 
Of Venice, and the Great Duke lends consent, 
The high espousals solemniz'd before 
Between His Highness and the Lady Blanche, 
Born daughter of Bartholomew Capello, 
Should by His Highness this day be renew'd 
"With the Queen, daughter of St. Mark. Advance, 
Ambassadors, and give away the bride. 

The Nuptial ring is exchanged 

in the customary form, and the Patriarch, spreading 

his hands over the pair, appears to repeat the 

prayers and benediction. Then ahud: 

Heaven on these nuptials shower perennial joy; 
And give the fair engrafted plant to glad 
With long fecundity the sovereign stock ; 
So after ages, happy in its shade, 
May bless, as I do now, the parent seed ! 
G. D. Now to the Church, to offer thanks to God, 
And meetly close this high auspicious day. 



ACT IV. SC. 5. 305 



The Characters and other persons 

/arm in procession, ivhich passes down and from the scene 

in tlie following order : 

Patriarch of Aquileia a^id Archbishop of Pisa. 

BiANCA, with the crown on her head, led hythe Grand Duke, 

and having her train home up hy the Signora Malocuor 
■and another Lady of the Court, — the Gr. Duhe's train 

home hy two Pages. Then Don Pietro, iciih Bar- 
tholomew Capello; Donna Virginia u-ith Don Cesar 
d' Este ; the Duke of Bracciano tcith Vittorio ; Pel- 
LEGRiNA icith Bentiyoglio ; Sennuccio 
and Abbioso ; Senate. 
Then the train 0/ Venetian Xobles ; then the Inferior 
Magistrates; and finally the Guard, which have 
presented arms as the procession passes hetween 
the lines. Music playing throughoutj until 

the Drop falls. 



306 ' BIANCA CAPELLO 



Act the Fifth 

Scene I. A room in the Grand Duchess's ApartmenU 

BiANCA. Cardinal. 

Card. Nay, it is so. Your modesty disowns 

Your kindness' due. I know my brotlier's heart : 
One may wring aught from it but gold. 

Bian. My lord, 
You do him wrong. A freer hand or heart 
Can boast no monarch : few so free. 

Card. Well, well; 
I will not argue — not with you. Once more, 
A thousand thanks. I would I could believe 
I ow'd your kindness to a dearer feeling. 

Bian. Than what, my lord ? 

Card. Than that which you profess. 
Oft in your letters you have call'd me dear; 
And when you bade me hasten from dead Eome 
To give new life to Florence and to you, 
It was with such a magic of sweet words 
As lent even to your picture sweeter charms. 
May I believe them real ? 

Bian. My poor words ? 
yes 1 Indeed, save dear Yirginia only, 



ACT V. SC. 1, 307 



Who of my lord's near blood can be to me 

That which your Highness' talents, winning way, 

And suavity of speech have render'd you ? 

Card. And is that all ? Alas ! your pictur'd lips 
Give back no colder answer. 

Bian. Does your Grace 
Then question them ? When, at your prayer, I sent 
My poor resemblance, pleas'd to think you held 
In some regard your brother's wife, I sent 
Truly my heart with it. Did your Grace in turn 
Give truly yours ? 

Card. So truly, and so wholly, 
I come to seek it. Give me back my own. 
Or satisfy the sweet yet painful void 
That leaves my breast no respite. 

Bian. My lord Cardinal ! 

This language in a Churchman 

Card. Seems it strange ? 
Has not a Churchman senses ? Are they proof 
To that dehcious sickness whose contagion 
Seizes the spirits of all other men ? 

Bian. My lord ! my lord ! Either yourself are mad, 
Or you think me so. If you not remember 
What your position calls for, at the least 
Forget not Avhat belongs to mine. \_Turns to go. 

Card. Yet stay I 
Beauteous Bianca ! hear me yet one word. 

Bian. My lord, a thousand — in another tone, 
And of another import. 



308 BIANCA CAPELLO 



Card. 'T is to say, 
You disavow the afFection you have own'd, 
And bid me to forget what I have learn'd. 

Bian. It is to say, I bid your Grace remember 
I profFer'd but a sisterly regard; 
Which still is yours, if you will take it fairly ; 
But, to pervert it to a guilt}^ thought. 
Is to charge me with folly, and yourself. 

Card. Why guilty? You have said, my speech and ways 
Won from you liking. Was 't in nature then, 
I should not yield the body of my soul 
Captive to beauty, wit, and grace like thine ? 
That magic which entrances all the world 
That come within its circle, which has wrapt 
My eldest brother for so many years 
In such infatuate passion that fools say 
Thou usest philters, shall it have no spell 
For a more sympathetic spirit like mine ? 
Yes ! fairest of all 

Bian. [ivho has looTced steadily onhim, throughout his appeal^ 
U'ith a scorn gradually increasing. 
Must I understand 
By this, your Eminence would make love to me ? 

Card. Ah, look not thus ! though even scorn shows beau- 
tiful 
In that angelic face. Saints look not down 
On their poor worshipers with gleaming eyes : 
And I am such ; I love not, but adore. 
Thou art a Gorofon now: but not the terror 



ACT V. SC. 1. 309 



Of those liauglit looks can frown me into stone ; 
For my blood boils with passion. 

Bianca moves to touch a hand-hell.'] Yet fear not ! 
Ring not I I have but words : words which shall out, 
Though, could I now go back, I would not breathe 

them. 
Bianca, I adore thee ; with a passion 
Which makes the love of even my brother tame. 
I am more young than he, my heart less worn. 
Look on me, and compare us. Is he comelier ? 
Has he ? 

Bmn. My lord, is this mere gallantry ? 
Or comes it truly from your inmost soul ? 
KJard. From the hot heart of my impassion'd spirit. 
I swear it by my habit, by the Church, 
By the high God in Heaven, and what for me 
Has all of Heaven in one thought — thyself! 

I love thee with a passion ! 

Bian. Hear me then. 
Were I so meanly, loathsomely ingrate. 
As to forget all good I owe my lord ; 
Could I be, what as yet I ne'er have been, 
So intemperate of blood as at one time 
To love two men ; could I so far forget 
My duty unto Cod and unto man, 
As, with a double adultery, to yield 
My body to my lord's own brother ; still. 
Still would I shrink, as from the touch of plague, 
From taint by such a traitor — traitor, ay ! ^^ 



310 BIANCA CAPELLO 



Traitor unto thy God, thy Church, thy brother \ 
The hooded snake, which bites even unassaii'd, 
Shall be as welcome to my breast as thou ! 
She tahes up the hell ; hut at the moment 

Miter Virginia. 

my Virginia I thou art come in time. 

Card, [who at first springs towards Bianca, as though lie 
vjould strangle her^ turning ahouf^ and with dencJied 
hands J mutters : 
Death! 'I should sink to this ! ^' [Exit. 

Virg. What troubles thee, 
Sweet sister ? Thine eyes blaze, albeit thy cheek 
Is fearful-pale. 

Bian. The Cardinal and I 
Have had high words. I do repent me much 

1 strove to reconcile my lord and him. 
But thou look'st sad too. Is it all for me ? 

Virg. Alas! My mother! They have taken her back 
To her old cloister. Dare I pray once more 
Thy influence with my lord and brother ? 

Bian. I fear 
'T will be in vain. Yet, for thy gentle sake, 
I will essay. And happily now comes 
The Duke. Thou wilt not go ? 

Virg. 'T is best. 
What could my tears with him, if thy prayer ftiil ? 

[Exit. 



ACT V. SC. 1. 311 



Enter Grand Duke. 

G. D. Virginia? Flies she me ? Thy darling friend 
.Should feel her presence here is joy to me. 

Bian. She had a grace to ask, and, dear my lord, 
Would trust my pleading rather than her own. 

G. D. Knowing I could refuse thee nothing, ha ? 

Bian. My lord is ever gracious ; but this quest 
I fear will try him. 'T is her mother's cause. 

G. D. Pray, do not plead for her. I have no lioart 

To say thee nay. But now Dost thou remember, 

I gave Virginia warning that her mother 

Must not abuse her freedom? Yet her home 

Was made the haunt of traitors, who paid court 

And offer'd mock condolence to the widow, 

That they might shame their Sovereign, teaching men 

To call me tyrant and set her in honor 

Above my own thron'd Duchess. Chief of these 

Were my born brothers; and of these the chief 

Was Ferdinand. Thou changcst hue ! I mark'd, 

On coming in, th)^ forehead was o'erclouded, 

And thy pal'd cheeks show'd traces of a storm. 

What has befallen ? 

Bian. What never must again. 
I have borne, my lord, from the o'erweening prelate, 
What makes me sorry you are not still foes. 

G. D. Ha ! Has the ungrateful traitor dar'd renew 
His old despite ? 

Bian. It were not wise, my lord, 



312 BIAXCA CAPELLO 



Even were it noble, to accuse the absent ; 
Nor, speaking to my sovereign and my spouse, 
Can I forget the reverence due his blood ; 
But this in brief — and it is much to say : 
The Cardinal-Prince in me sees but the widow 
Of Bonaventuri, in himself the son 
Of Cosmo. 

G. D. The old devil of his nature ; 
A rampant arrogance that gets the better 
Even of his practis'd craft. It shall be tam'd. 
His visit over, let this ill-starr'd union 
Be never more renew'd. He but abuses 
My trust, as thy sweet nature. Florence is full 
Of plots and treason of his foul engendering, 
Hatch'd into life and foster'd by the means 
I lent him at thy instance. Malocuor 
Begins to give me doubts ; and Pietro falls 
Yisibly once more in the traitorous mesh. 
Hast thou not mark'd this? 

Bian. No, my lord : till now 
I doubted not the Cardinal was rcstor'd 
To godlier feelings. 

G. D. Such he never knew. 
And Pietro is the fool of his own passions. 
Which Ferdinand plays with, with a master hand, 
For his ambitious aims. — Yet be to both, 
Until the banquet and the hunt are over 
Which end this luckless visit, gracious still. 
Bian. Still, as befits me ever to our guests 



ACT Y. SC. 1. 313 



And to thy brothers. But to seem again 
That which I was, when, deeming I had won 
His heart in turn, I held the Cardinal dear, 
That can I not. 

G. D. And that I would not have. 
Be, as Heaven made thee, open as the' day, 
And leave to those, whose thoughts bear not the light, 
To mask their visages. — But I am come, 
Not to condole with thee, nor yet to praise thee, 
But have thy sentence on the gem they are adding 
To our art-treasures, for whose wasteless wealth, 
Thus gather'd, coming time shall laud my name. 

Bian. The new-found statue ? 

G. D. 'T is now clean' d, and shows 
A prodigy of beauty, scarcely flaw'd. 
How Benvenuto's eyes had glisten' d over 
Its grand yet fine proportions ! — Come, love, come ! 

Bian. my dear lord, I should but mar your pleasure. 
Hold me excus'd. A weight is on my soul 
I cannot lift; a presage of dire evil. 
The shape I see not, but the thing is there. 

G. D. It is a shade then. Wears it Ferdinand's hat? 

Bian. [gravely. 

I have said what Ferdinand never will forgive. 

G. D. And thus that gentle heart is made uneasy, 

[folding Ids arms ahout her. 
Sorrowing for wounds it has made another bear, 
Albeit in self-defence. 

Bian. That is not all. 



31-1 BIANCA CAPELLO 



The Cardinal's face was black with gather'd hate. 
G. D, He is a serpent. Fear not therefore thou. 
The cygnet is beneath the parent's wing. 

[pressing her closer. 
Can the snake reach it ? Fie, thou timid swan ! 
Summon thy ladies, and be with me straight. 

Kisses her hand^ and Exit 

Bian. But with a heart thy dear love cannot lighten. 
Would it were morrow and the Cardinal gone ! 

Moving to the tcibU^ lifts the hand-hell^ as to ring it; 

and Scene changes to 



ACT Y. SC. 2. 015 



Scene II. 

A room in Malocuores house. 

Malocuor 

lualking slowli/, ivith an air of deep meditation^ 

his hand on his chin. 

Filter 
SiGNORA Malocuore — her face radiant with triumph. 

Sign. What wilt thou give me for the news I bring ? 
Med. [gazing at her for a moment sharply. 

'T is something fatal; something Thou shalt have 

A carcanet of diamonds, bring'st thou such 

As shall destroy the Duchess, and perhaps 

\checldng himself. 
I will not tell thee that. 

Sign. Perchance I know. 
Thou plottest for the ruin — it may be 

The murder of thy lord, to place the Card 

Mai. [in alarm and threateningly. 

Wilt hold thy wicked tongue ? How know'st thou ? 

Walls 
Thick as our own have ears. 

Sign. That know I well : 



316 BIANCA CAPELLO 



Our mistress's for instance. 

Mdl. Ha ! — Speak out. 

But whisper. 'T is ? 

Sign, [pausing — then slowly. 
The Cardinal loves Bianca. 
Mdl. [peevisJilg. 

That is old news for me. 

Sign. But not so old, 

The Cardinal has avow'd his passion, and been 

IlaJ. [eagerly interrupting. 

Say but rejected, thou hast made us both. 
Sign. Eejected; with such virulence of scorn, 

But that I heard, I had not thought her mouth 
Could breathe such accents. 

Mai. [rapturously.] This is Heaven ! 

Sign. Hell rather, 
Mai. Ay, Hell for them ; but a brave Heaven to me. 
Two slow taps heard at the door. 
Go now; there comes, and in the nick of time. 
One I must deal with. 

Sign, [going.'] Have a care ! 

Mai. Be sure. [Exit Sign, 
hy another door. 

NoAV, no more doubt ! [exidtingly.] 'T is ripe ! 

Come in, 
Enter 
^ hy the first door, Masxadiere. 

Masnad Your Excellence has order' d 



ACT V. SC. 2. 317 



Mdl. [bringing him forward. 
Come this way. 
And speak more low. — Thou hast a nimble tongue 
As well as poniard. Knowest thou a man 
Thy mate therein ? 

Masnad. Your Excellence, I do. 

Mai. Canst thou malign a person of high rank 
Even in his very teeth ? and foil his thrusts, 
If he push questions home ? 

Masnad. I have foil'd home-thru^,ts 
Of sharper stuff than words, and done more hurt 
To persons of high rank than Avith my tongue. 

Mai. Know'st thou the tavern of the Golden Lilies ? 

Betake thee thither then Soft ! I must see 

This mate of thine. Gro, bring him hither straight. 
But not that way. I'll show thee now a room, 
Where I can teach you two and not a soul 
Know of the lesson. There a secret stair 
Leads to a little garden-gate, whereby 
Thou 'It bring thy fehow. Follow. Softly ! So. 

Leads ojf, on tij)foe, and with finger on lip^ 

Masnadiere hy a small door to the 

further part of the scene. 



318 BIAXCA CAPELLO 



Scene III. 

A room in the CardlnaVs Apartment at the Pitti. 

Cardinal, Don Pietro. 

Don P. I know not that. If, the last time, 't was feign' d, 
Why feign'd she not the birth too ? Why resort 
To visceral pangs, at peril of her life, 
To end a pregnancy, which, if 't were shamm'd, 
She would have clos'd by simulated travail 
And a supposititious offspring. 

Card. Why? 
Because she knew I had set a watch on her. 

Don P. If she knew that, she could have chang'd her 
creatures, 
And so avoided it, did she deceive. 
'T were harder for her to o'erreach in this 
Her lord than thee. Now, by the gods! I think 
'T was poison given her to prevent a birth. 

Card. Thou dost not hint I gave it ? 

Don P. Faith ! our sire 
Was thought a subtle poison-mixer : Strozzi, 
Who had tried the like on him, had cause to dread him. 



ACT V. SC. 3. 310 



Thou liast, I know, his art. Say, thou dost use it; 

That is thine own affair. 

Card. Art thou gone mad ? 

Dost thou forget my habit and my place ? 
Don P. ISTo, I remember priests may do for God 

What laics do for Satan. How much more 

A prince of Holy Church ! 

Card. A scurril jest ; 

Which I might take for earnest, Avere 't my will. 

But for thy sake, my brother, I can bear. 

With the Lord's grace, even that. 

Don P. [scornfully.'] For mine ? 

Card. Thine only. 
Don P. Hark ! I 'm thy junior, Ferdinand ; but no babe^ 

To bite on coral. 

Card. And I hold thee none. 

Let the witch foist on her besotted lord 

Some peasant or strumpet's bantling, who shall climb 

Our father's throne, what is my loss ? Hurt pride. 

The purple bars me from succession ; but thou, 

Wounded in honor, art shut out from the crown, 

Wliich is thy natural right, faihng Francis' heirs. 

More, thou art wrong'd in the present : our sire's wealth 

Must make the nest warm for the cuckoo's brood. 

What ! Thou art touch'd at last ? Why so ! why so ! 

'T was well reminded. Wilt thou not awake ? 

Promise me thou wilt marry, dear Pietro ! 

'T is the sole hope for Florence and for me, 



320 BIAXCA CAPELLO 



Who count our House's honor next to God's. 
Don P. Why press that point ? 'T is time when I succeed. 
Card. And shouldst thou die ? What hope then for our 
House ? 
Shall this pernicious harlot's purchas'd seed 
Mount to my father's heritage ? Perish rather 
She and her prematurely dotard spouse 
By one quick bloAV together ! 

Don P. Sayest thou, brother ? 
How happens it that thou, M'ho wast but now 
In amity with the Duchess, art fallen out ? 
Card. Because but now she has wrong'dme with sharp 
insult. 
As lately thee. Thou lov'st her not ? 

Don P. Why no. 
She might have had my Spaniard at the Court. ^' 
But that the girl was not made welcome, is that 
A cause to foul her Highness with gross names ? 
Troth ! I believe I honor her in heart 
The more she did not. 

Card. So not I ! It was 
The rankest hypocrisy. The harlot soul 
Loves most the form of chastity. Out upon 
These whited sepulchres ! The flowers that prank 
Their outward wall draw beauty from corruption, 
And lade the churchyard air with scents that bring 
To wise minds thoughts of rottenness. 

Don P. My mind 



ACT Y. SC. 3. 321 



Is dull then as my eyes. I see but beauty 
And smell but sweetness in Bianca. Yet, 
God wot, I love her not. 

Card. Well. To the point. 
I have certain cause to think the fresh maternity 
Our Duchess threatens is but assum'd. Wilt thou 
Be diligent as I to thwart her aims ? 

Don. P. Why yes, so for. 

Card. 'T is for thy good, not mine. 
The honor of our House, there, there alone, 
I vie with thee in interest. We will talk 
Further of this. Meantime, spread thou by stealth. 
But largely, what I have told thee. Thou maysfc 

safely. 
Think of our father's throne, and of his wealth 
Squander'd on bastards. With that spur, devise; 
And make her fame as odious as thou canst. 

Don P. I win think on 't ; but, 'sooth ! I like it not. 
'T were manlier far to poison her outright. 

[Exit Don P. 

Card. And Avould she were ! to save thy brains the pain, 
Thou shallow libertine ! — and me perhaps 
The odium of the deed. — I could not prick 
Thy honor to the leap ; I touch'd thy purse. 
Well — there thou art not far w^rong. — But who 

had thought 
I could so blind thee ! Thou succeed ! Thy heirs ! 
The purple bar my natural rights ! A word, 



S22 BIANCA CAPELLO 

The Pope gives dispensation ; ^* and my vows 
And habit ahke are cobwebs. They shall mesh . 
Thee as some bigger flies. Then break thou through, 
If thou have power ! 

Enter Malocuore. 

Ha, Malocuor ! — Come forward, — 
Why art thou dull ? Why, man ! the sun looks bright 
That dawns upon our fortune. Saidst thou not 
The people famine-stricken were astir, 
Eous'd by the Duke's exactions ? that the nobles, 
Tir'd by the sequestration of the goods 
Of the conspiring twenty of their order. 
Are disaffected ? ( little do they think 
'T was of my prompting! ) and Camilla's lot 
Is made to appear a grievous wrong ? Hear now : — 
The Queen of France has charg'd — thou know'st well 

why — 
Troilo Orsini's murder on thy master, 
Who is as innocent of his death as thou. 
St. Mark's portentous star is on the wane. 
Thou shak'st the head ! Why, what is this ? 

Mai. My lord — - 

Could I dare speak 

Card. Thou mayst say what thou wilt. 
Hast thou not heard I pardon no reserve ? 
Mai. A strange report is running through the town, 



ACT Y. SC. 3. 323 



The Carclinal-Prince — forgive, your Grace ! — made 
love 

Openly to his brother's spouse, and was 

Cai'd. 'T is false as Hell! a devilish juggling lie ! 
But what if it were true ? Say pn. 

Mai. And was 

Instantly and with scorn rejected. 

Card. Death! 
Where gott'st thou that ? Where ? Quickly ! Stam- 
mer not ! 

Or! 

Mai. Everywhere and anywhere. Aloud 
In the open marketplaces, in the taverns, 
'T is told with laughter. Men exalt the Duchess 
As a Penelope, and deride your Grace. 
Card. Villain ! thou liest ! 

Mai. Give me then to death. 

But if I do not ? 

Card. Then shall die the inventor. 
Mai. That is the Duchess' self. She told her ladies ; 

And, ere you might count ten, 

Card. 0, that her neck 
Were 'twixt these fingers ! — But I '11 not believe it ! 
Thou art impos'd on — or imposest. I will 
Have instant proofs ! Dost hear me? instant proofs I 
Proofs, dost thou hear me ! proofs, I say ! 

Med. And shall. 
Card. But on the instant ! I will have no stop. 



324 BIANCA CAPELLa 



Mdl. "Will your Grace Yenture then to come with me ? 
Card. To bring the source of that infernal slander 

Home to that — woman ? Whither not ? To Hell, 
Must I there seek it. 

Mai. Could your Grace procure 
A close disguise. 

Card. At once. 

Mai. [turning to go. 
I will be back 
Similarly metamorphos'd — 

Card. In five minutes. 
. Go. I will have this proof, or — 'ware thy soul 1 

[Exit 

Malocuoe, looldng after him with a sinister smihj 

raises his hand exultingly, and Exit hy the 

door ivhere he had entered. 



ACT V. sc. 4. 325 



Scene IV. 

A large piLblic room in the Tavern of tlie Golden Lilies. Va- 
rious groups of common men, artisans, etc., with soldiers 
intermixed, drinking at separate tables. At a table in the 
foreground, standing by itself, 

Masnadieue and Scherano. 

JScher. Who is this man of rank he is to bring ? 

Masnad. I know not, I ; and care as httle. Most hke, 
The Cardinal's self. 

Seller. That is a daring thought. 
How should it stead him, what we have to say? 

Masnad. Much, an' thou weigh'st the matter. Was 't not 
thou, 
With Malandrino and myself, wast sent, 
To stir the people, when our Lady's brother, 
Yittorio, had displac'd the favorite lords, 
Pandolfo of the Bardi, Mario Sforza, 
And Jacopo Salviati, the Duke's cousin ? 
Holp we not make the imposts too weigh heavier 
In popular estimation by our talk ? 
Was thy purse empty, when the city rung 
With rumors of great crimes most like our own, 
Imputed to the Grand Duke's self, with some. 
Dyed deeper with a diabolical craft, 



320 BIAXCA CAPELLO 



Wroiiglit by the Duchess and a Jevrish hag 
Confederate in her sorceries, acts to make 
Even our flesh' d senses shudder ? ^^ 

Seller. With disgust. 
Pah ! I recall 't. I Avas asham'd to find 
Men, that had brains, so credulous. 

Ilasnad. Why ! Thou shouldst 
Eather have blush' d to wonder. Lies as gross 
I have read in history, and suppose these too 
Will find some godly chronicler one da}^, 
Yvlth fools to credit him. For, mark you ! men 
Love nothing better than a good round lie 
That, blackening others, makes themselves more white 
In their own fancies ; and a monstrous tale 
Has marvelous attraction for some ears 
Which shut at simple facts. Cry thou. Amen ! 
So fellows like thee and me get their deserts 
With royal company in bad renown. 
Well now, I say, who fee'd our tongues for this ? 
Who but the Signer Malocuor? And Avhere 
Got he the ducats? ISTot from Francis-Mary; 
Kor from Don Pietro. Seest thou, ha? 

Scher. I see : 
The Eed-Cap 's hawking at his brother's crown. 
But wherefore changes Malocuor his game, 
Praising the Duchess ? — 

Ilasnad. And reviling him ? 
I know not. But, thou seest, the tale not now 
Is for the common ear : the Cardinal's own 



ACT Y. SO. 4. • 327 



Haplj is meant. Perchance to lasli his purpose 
To some bold leap. 

Seller. Brave ! That may need our help. 
Masnad. But will not get it — not mine — if, as I think, 
It vault too high. 

Seller. Thou mean'st ? 

Masnad. At the Grand Duche.ss, 
Or the Grand Duke himself. 

Scher. By Bacchus! no! 
That were to swallow coals. 'T is desperate-bold 
As 't is : our talk will drive the Cardinal wild. 

Masnad. ISTot before us. But after ! 

Scher. Then look sharp; 
Your steed may throw you, Signor Malocuor ! 

Miter, in disguise, 
Cardinal and Malocuore. 

Masnad. Hush ! 't is our men. Play well now. 

Mai. [hiu.] Have a care, 
My gracious lord! [Aloud, in an assumed voice. 

Shall '\ve go higher up ? 
Or choose our table here ? 

Card, [also assumed voice. 
Here is as well. 
Mai. Have jou room, friends ? 

Masnad. At your good service. Sit. 
Mai. If we not interrupt your converse. [ Card, and Mai. sit. 

Masnad. No. 



328 EIANCA CAPELLO 



We prate but idly, and of public things. 
Med. \fo a waiter^ who has approached ihem. 
Monte Pulciano. — 

To Masnad.] We are strangers here. 
Ifas7iad. From Lucca ? 

3Ial. Ay. You Florentines detect 
Lightly our accent. 

Masnad. 'T is not strongl}^ mark'd. 
Mai. Sir, you are complaisant. 

Waiter brings ivine and glasses^ is paid and retires.^ 

Please ye to partake 
Of our poor beverage, [^filling for all. 

Masnad. Drink we to the health 

Seller. Of the Grand Duchess, foremost of all ladies ! 
They all rise — Cardinal reluctantly ; 
who coughs and sets down his glass untasted. 
Mai. With all my heart. 

Masnad. Your friend admires not much 
Our mistress. 

Mai. Ay, but better loves the Church. 

Seller. Perhaps another toast 

Card. Nay, that was well : 
But I drink rarely. 

Salter. And speak seldom. 

Card. How ! 
[Med. pushes liini secrefly. 
Mai He is taciturn — yet choleric too. What news ? 
Is there aught stirring ? 

Masnad. You are strange indeed I 



ACT V. S(\ 4. 329 



Stirring ? All Florence is astir. 

Mai Vrith Avhat ? 
Masnad. The Cardinars amours. 

Ilal. [inaMng again a sign to Card, 
to restrain himself. 
Cardinal who ? 

Seller. His Grace, 
The Cardinal de' Medici, our Sovereign's brother. 
IfaJ. [again touching the Card, who hetraijs discomposure. 

Sure, they malign him. Who the happy fair ? 
Scher. Happy? Not much of that! He was rebuff'd. 
Masnad. The dame — what think ye, sirs — especially you 
Who love the Church ? — was his own brother's spouse, 
Our lady Duchess ! 

Card, [starting up^ and in his natural voice. 
That is false ! 

Masnad. [starting up too, and 
ludf-draiving his dagger. 
By Heaven ! 

Mai [affecting to restrain Mm. 

You have no cause ; my comrade's zeal 

Card, [loith composure and in his assumed voice. 

Your pardon. 
ISTot your report I questiond, but the tale ; 
Which, for the love I bear our Holy Church, 

[crossing himself. 
I say again, is falsehood black as Hell. 
Masnad. 'T is well. But give me leave to tell you, brother, 
If you come here to battle for the Church 



330 BIAXCA CAPELLO 



With all wlio argue hor of filthy sin, 
You should provide yourself a score of lives. 
Card. That is my risk. — • But whence had you this story ? 
Masnad. Whence? Whence you will ? 'T is common as 
church-psalms. 
Shall I call hither some of yonder groups, 
To laugh you into faith ? Else, an' you list, 
Here is my fellow had the tale direct. 
Seller. Ay, from Bettina. She 's to me, you wot. 

Much as your Cardinal would, but could not have. 
To him our Duchess. Now Bettina's mistress 
Is aunt of Count Ulysses Bentivoglio, 
Whose spouse, the Duchess' daughter, Pellegrina, 
Taught by her mother, told it unto her. 
MaJ. It is enough. 

Card. To prove the rumor, not its truth. 
JScher. What take you then our Cardinal to be? 
A saint in sackcloth ? or Saint Dominic ? 
Body of Bacchus I 't is a gallant prince. 

Young, handsome Let me see. [^peering in 

Card's face. 
Why, as I live ! 
He 's not unlike yourself, though liner far, 
And some years younger, and, by right of blood. 
Adorer of Hiir ladies. 

Card, [rising — to Mai. 
Let us go. 
Mai [rising.l Good morning, gentlemen. 

Masnad. Good mornino^, both. 



ACT Y. SC. 4. 331 



Seller. \to Card.j wJio has turned. 

And, brother, in your prayers remember me. 

[Exeunt Card, and Mai. 
Was 't not well play'd ? 

Masnad. God's faith ! 't was all put home. 
Not Cini's surgery ^^ will heal those wounds. 
Eclier. How he reneg'd! IsTow, as a soldier true, 
Holdst thou him guilty ? 

Masnad. Gruilty, by this hilt ! 
Is Malocuor stark mad, without some base 
To build such fabric ? At a touch 't would fall 
And crush him into atoms. 

Seller. Precious prelate ! 
This comes of giving princes to the Church. 
Masnad. — Without a true vocation. See thou now ! 
We both wax godly. 

Seller. Eight enough, when rogues 
Usurp the purple. 

Masnad. Bravo, my Scherano ! 
When I am Pope, look thou art made Archbishop. 
JSelier. I will not covet then my neighbor's wife. 
Masnad. Brave ! But forget not. Eminence, our Cardinal 
But took his brother's place, young Don Giovanni, 
Whom swart Garzfa stabb'd. 

Seller. Whose fault was that? 
Masnad. Why Cosmo's. But they are all a cursed race. 
Seller. So Isabella cried. And I, Amen ! 

Would we were rid of all your serpent brood ! 
Masnad. Then thou criedst evil. Take their shme away, 



332 EIAXCA CArELLO 

The grass would grow too green for tliee and me. 
Set Florence free again, and sift tlie laws 
The bloody Spaniard model' d for om' soil, 
Would six score annual murders feed us fat ? 
Stablish right rule, the first stroke of its wand 
Would sweep us clean away, with all our webs, 
Which we have spun in palaces. Where then 
The twice two hundred of our valiant corps, 
Whose lightning, hurtled by the lion's cub. 
Men call the Cardinal Farnese's son, 
Pietro Leoncillo da Spoleti, 
Frightens the confines with its errant blaze, — ^^ 
Where shall they forage, then ? And all the bands 
High barons and proud princes of the Church 
Pay or connive at for their private ends ? 
Useless, they shrink, and vanish by degrees. 
The rights of nature, which our foes call rapine, 
And the strong arm are put in sequestration. 
Bound by the moral fetters of the weak. 
Money must then be earn'd by vulgar toil ; 
And men of mettle, coop'd like barnyard birds, 
ISTo more like falcons winnow the free air 
With wings unclipp'd and dip their beaks in blood. 
LaAv helps the coward and makes strong the weak. — 
When then, for that his man's-heart durst aspire 
To free Italia from a bestial yoke, 
They put wise Machiavelli to the rack,^^ 
They did good service to us sons of fortune ; 



ACT Y. SC. 4. 333 



For which let us be thankful. Live the Medici ! 

\_DrinlxS. 
Seller. Amen ! if they 're our Providence. Eut one, 
His spouse at least, will not be better long 
For thy mock loyalty, see I clearly through 
Our patron's masquerade. 

Masnad. Or haply both. 
So, Good night. Signer Malocuor ! 

Seller. HoAV so? 
Masnad. Thinkst thou, his height once clomb, your crafty 
Cardinal 
Will let the ladder stand to mark his way ? 
Push'd down, the steps are broken, or hid, rest sure. 
Scher. In cell or coffin then, rot unbewail'd, 

Thou worst as meanest villain of us all ! 
Masnad. That is wish'd well. And so I drink. Amen! 

[^Drhiks. 

They pass up the stage 
to mingle with the other groups^ and 

Scene closes. 



834 BIAKCx\. CAPELLO 



Scene Y. 

Same as Scene IIL 

Enter jjrecljjitatelijj the Cardinal followed hy Malocuore, 
hotJi still wearing their disguise. 

Card, [dashing down his hat and throwing off passionately 
his coarse mantle. 
Hell's hottest fires on lier treacherous soul ! 
Would I could slay her inch by inch, and make, 
For her, a twelvemonth's agony of death ! 
Mai. [heljjing to divest him. 

That were not easy. And your Highness' hopes 
Would only be twelve useless months delay'd. 
At once, and by a single blow, 't were best. 
Card. Do it at once, then ! 

Mai. Has your Grace forgot ? 
There is another life. 

Card. What mean'st thou ? 

Mai. Dies 
The sorceress on the instant, with her dies 
Your great revenge. But live to better hope 
Your glorious aspirations and your rights ? 

lie jpauses a moment^ looldng intently 
on the Cardinal, icho motions him to proceed. 



ACT Y. SC. 5. 335 



Your royal brother weds again ; and then 

[l^alises again. 
Card. Devil! 

3faJ. Or saint, even as it suits my lord. 

But devil would stand him now in better stead. 
Card. Be thou the devil, then. But let thy tongue 

Speak out thy damnable purpose in few words. 

Or, if thou canst, hint what is neither fit 

For thee to utter nor for me to hear. [ Walks away. 
Mai Has your Grace much remaining of the sum 

The Duchess strove so hard that you might get ? 
Card, [turning qiiicMy. 

Serpent ! thou stingest. Twice fifteen thousand 

went, — 

Thou hadst the distribution, and shouldst know, — 

To gain new friends, and to secure the old. 
Hal. Would twice five thousand ducats be too much, 

To help 3^our Highness to the throne of Florence 

And your most just revenge ? 

Card. Take ten times that : 

And ten times more, if needful: what thou wilt. 
Mai. Hypothecations on the royal fisc ? 

No ; ten suffice. — There is a white confection, 

A tremulous jelly made of sweeten'd milk. 

And scented with the water of the rose. 

Of this the vo\i\\ pair are strangely fond. 

At the grand banquet, meant to usher in 

That purpos'd chase Aviiich never shall take place, 

Escliew this viand. Its taste engenders thirst, 



336 BIANCA CAPELLO 



Which might prove fatal. On the morrow, men 
Shall hail your Highness Sovereign Duke in Florence. 
[Exit Mai. Jjowing Mmself baclcwards^ 
Card. And where wilt thou be ? Hop'st thou to go free, 
Charg'd with that perilous secret ? Could I bind 
Thy lips forever, think'st thou I could brook 
Thy insolent mien, where even now I read, 
As in thy cover'd taunts and ill-tim'd jests, 
Abhorrently familiar ! swollen presumption, 
Bred of a conscious partnership in crime — 
Could I bear this ? from thee ? Or would I trust 
The servant who his loving lord betray'd 
To ruin and death ? ISTo, thou vile tool ! To-day 
Complete thy function, which the will of fate 
Proffers to my ambition and revenge : 
To-morrow — I will break thy edge forever ! 
[Uxit info the same 
cabinet as hefore (in Scene III.) 



ACT V. sc. 6. 337 



Scene YI. 

An Antecliamher leading to the G. Duchess's 
Apartments in the Pitti. 

SiGXORA MaLOCUORE, 

passing sloivly and thoughtfidJg through. She stops 
suddenly midway. 

Sign. ■*" [to herself.] Donna Virginia ! I were better pleas'd 
To want her sweet simplicity. 

Enter 

from the door facing her, and luhich is supposed 

to lead to the G. Duchess's Apartments^ 

DoxNA Virginia. 

Aloud.] Is 't so ? 

Donna Virginia absent from the chase ? 

How shall her friend and royal sister spare her ? 
Virg. Better than would I hope my loyal lord, 

Who stays behind, being slightly indispos'd. 

But what keeps you, Signora, from Caiano ? 
Sign. A like and yet a different cause. My lord, 

Though loyal I hope, will better do without me ; 

And I am ailing too. 



S3 8 BIAXCA CAPELLO 



Virg. That is a jest. 

Sign. Then seriously/^ I Uke Caiano much; 

The A-^illa Poggio more. The distance, scarce 

An hour's easy drive, is soon gone through. 

And passing-well I love the autumnal chase, 

When the wind rusthng through the scant-leav'd forest 

Calls blood into the faded cheek, and dote 

On roj'al banquets, where the cost and care 

Are not my portion, but the pleasure is. 

But, as it happen'd, my well-loving spouse 

Seem'd in no very loving mood to-day : 

And so, to avoid the infliction of his spleen, 

I supervise the change the Duchess order'd 

In the blue hangings of the Silver'd Chamber 

( Whence now I think your Highness comes, ) more 

pleas' d 
To glad one person than to worry tvro. 

Virg. Happily said; and, surely, kindly done, 

Now could I envy you the sweet bright smile 
That will reward your forethought. 

Sign. for that, 
So chary has the Duchess been to me 
Of smiles and sweetness, I have long forgotten 
There was such blessing: and tliis time, mcthinks, 
She will have no will to grant it. 

Virg. Ah, 3'ou point 
To her strange sadness. Just before she left, 
I ask'd what ail'd her. Kisshig me, she answer'd, 
^*' iSTothing in health" ; then, with a pensive smile, 



ACT V. sc. 6. 339 



As though it irk'd her to seem so deject, 

Added, "There is a weight upon my heart; 

A sad foreboding : it v/iU all have gone, 

Ere next we meet." So saying, she embrac'd me, 

Then, parting, gaz'd a moment in my face 

Wistful and sad, and press'd my hand. Her eyes — 

Were wet with tears. 

Sign. As yours are now. Madonna. 
This is illusion. The dejected spirits. 
Pressing upon the heart, allow these phantoms 
To cloud the unwary brain.*'^ Who has not seen, 
In sickness, or when brooding care makes sleep 
Desert the wearying pillow, monstrous forms, 
Or bodiless heads, misshapen, that still come , 
ISTcarer and nearer, spreading on the eye 
More large and hideous, and in sequence close, 
Rank upon rank, in tapering vista long ; 
The last dim phantom lessening to a point. 
Lost in the far perspective ? Of such stuff 
Were fashion'd these sick bodements. It is said, 
The Cardinal and our ro3^al Lady quarrel'd. 
This haply has depress'd her lively spirit, 
And made your parting mournful. Did your Grace 
Remark their greeting ere the train took horse ? 
Virg. I thought the Duchess' mien constrain'd and cold. 
Yet was it courteous : and the Duke's demeanor. 
Gracious and kind as wonted, veil'd it all. 
I think none else would note it, but who knew 
There had been words between them. 



340 BI,VNCA CAPELLO 



Si'jn. And himself? 
Virg. There was — perhaps I fancied it — at times 
A strange abstraction in the Cardinal's looks, 
Which, fix'd on vacancy, appear'd to see 
Or seek for something. Once, when in this mood, 
Tlie Duke address'd him. Visibly he started, 
And — so I thought — turn'cl deadly pale. But then 
He came from his apartment looking pale. 
Sign. Doubtless 't was fancy — as your Highness knew 
A cause for discomposure. 

Virg. But 't was not 
Fancy, I saw him eye the Duchess once 
With mortal hatred. May I be forgiven 
If I -misjudge my father's blood, or wrong 
A Christian prelate ! but the look was one 
That made my heart stand still. 

Sign. It cannot be. 
The Cardinal-Prince reveres — that know I well ! 
Or, rather, loves his royal brother's spouse. 
As truly as — myself, who from the. first 
Was wedded to her fortunes, — nay, with love 
And reverence equal to my honest lord's, 
Whose rare devotion none can doubt. 

Virg. Indeed ! 
Heaven grant it be so ! Heaven itself must grieve 
Over these unnatural discords. Yet I doubt. 
The Duchess' heart has had some heavy shock. — 
But I must not detain you, dear Signora ; 
And my lord looks for me. [going. 



ACT T. SC. 6. 



341 



Sign, [attending her.] Ah, liappy lord ! 
And happier lady ! When you have been wed, 
As I have been, for two and twenty years, 
Your Prince will be more patient, and yourself, 
IBeheve me, much less anxious. 

Yiig. Fie, Signora! 
Why, when our hearts are happy in their Spring, 
Warn us that Autumn 's coming ? But I know 
The sere and yellow leaf is not for us, 
Whose souls shall know no season in their loves, 
Like Francis and Bianca's. 

Sign. O'er whose soul 
Come shadows of the Winter even now. 

Fxit YiRGixiA attended hy 
the Signora, — iclio presenthj re-enters. 

Like tliem f Thou simple one ! What, should I say 
" Heaven grant it be so " ! Little couldst thou think 

That wish would threaten Is it death to both? 

I fear me Malocuor has gone too far. 

He hates the proud Venetian ; the deep wounds 

Inflicted by her scorn more sorely rankle 

In his dark brooding spirit than mine ; the slight 

Put on him, when the dead Intendant's friend, 

Sennuccio, rose to favor, has given perhaps 

Desperate impulsion to the bold designs 

Wherein the Cardinal-Prince has long involv'd him. 

This childish-hearted lady took no note 



S-i2 EIANCA CAPELLO 



When Malocuor, by order of the Duke, 
Spurr'd on before the cavalcade, to see 
That everything was ready. Even now 
Perhaps the deed is doing ! ^elp us God ! 
I would prevent it if I could : but what, 
What know I ? what dare hint, Avhose very thought 
Is but conjecture ? Oh, that heavy thought ! 
Would, would 't were morrow, and the Duke were 
safe! 

Exit^ hy the door ivhence Virginia ' 
had entered. 



Scene YII. 

A rich Hall in the magnificent Villa del Poggio. 
At the top of the scene^ a large folding-door^ partially open^ 
gives a view of the Ba7iqueting-Room^ hrilliantly 
illuminated. 



ACT V. sc. T. 343 

Tliere is an uproar — tlie guests are risen 

from their seats, in various attitudes of consternation 

and Jiorror. The Grand Duke and Duchess are seen 

supported in the arms of Sennuccio and others, u-hile 

hefore them stands the Cardinal, gesticu- 

lating and ordering. 

Enter 

from the Banqueting-Eoom, through 

the open doors, and in precipitation, the 

Duke of Bracciano, followed as hurriedly hy Abbioso, — 

hoth with loohs of dismay and hoiTor ; and, less 

impetuously, from the side scene, luith hat on 

and mantle, and spurred, Don Pietro. 

Don P. What is this noise, Orsini ? Thou art pale 
And horror-stricken ! 

Brace. 'T is the end of things. 
- The Duke and Duchess are both poison' d, 

Don P. roison'd ! 
How ? and by -whom ? 

Brace. Think whom their death would profit; 
Then say by whom ? Let Abbioso speak, 

Don Pietro stands as if stupefied, looJdng on them both, 

then, while Abbioso sp)eaJcs, gazing on the scene 

in the Banqiieting-Room. 

Alh. [speaJiing hurriedly. 

The Duchess press' d the Cardinal to partake 



344 BIAXCA CArELLO 



Of a white swectmeatj which he still refus'd 

On plea of health derang'd. The Duke and she, 

Eagerly eating, suddenly Avere seiz'd 

With mortal pangs. The cry arose, of Poison ! 

The Cardinal, pointing to a ring he wore, 

Declar'd the stone, through Providence, had warn'd 

him, 
And charg'd the Duchess loudly Avith the crime, 

Don P. With what design? How could it profit her? 
'T is well for me I sit not next the throne: 
He might have laid this devil' s-work to me. 

Brace. He has sent to seize the fortresses already. 
The troops are order'd out. All in his name. 

Don P. These were his speculations for my good ! 

Facing once more tlie Banqueting- Room^ he moves a step as 
if to go to itj then stops^ ancl^ adjusting his mantle: 

I '11 not look on this scene. I cannot aid them. 

And righteous Cain must face his God alone. 
Brace. We both were fleeing. Isabella's death 

Might lend the new Duke pretext for his hate 

Against the Orsini. 

Abb. And my stubborn tongue 

Has not sung anthems in his Highness' praise. 
Don P. I win ride back. 

Through the doors of the Banqueting-Room, 

attendants are seen carrying out the Grand Duke 

and BiAXCA, the Cardinal following. The guests dispersing 

or gazing on each other in mute horror. 



ACT y. so. 7. 345 

Don Pietko ihroivs a liurrijd looh on the scene^ 

and is ctboiit to leave hastihj hy the side ivhere he had entered, — 

Bracciano and Abeioso, m Wee manner, at the 

opposite side, — ichen, Enter through the 

folding-door, Archbishop of Pisa, 

Bextivoglio, and otlccrs. 

What DOW? What means that movement? 
Archh. His Grace has order'd that the dying- pair 
Be carried to the Vaulted Room. 

Don. P. The sole 
Disfurnish'd and dark chamber in the house ! 
Benti. And suffers none to follow, 

Abh. God in Heaven! 
Brace. 'T is time we fled. 

Don P. Till better days, Farewell. 
Exeunt, hurriedly, 
Don Pietro at one side, Bracciano and Abbioso at the other. 

The Archeishop and the rest, who 
group around him, remain; and other guests, both lords 
and ladies, are seen coming from the Ban- 
queting- Room, as the scene, closing, 
gives place to 



346 BIANCA CAPELLO 



Scene YIII. and Last. 

A gloomy, vaulted chamher, with a single arched dGonuay. 

There is no furniture hut a large armed-chair. And 

the room is almost totally dark. 

Enter 

through the arch 

the Cardinal; the GpwAnd Duks 

and BiANCAj su^jwrted in the arms of servants; 

Sennuccio, hearing up Bianca's head. Tlien 

Malocuore, holding a lighted torch. 

Card. Set them down here. 

BiANCA is ]jlaced tenderly in the great chair 

% Sennuccio. The Grand Duke rests on tlie floor at her 

feet, his head ujoon her knees. 

Retire ye, \_Exeunt servants. 
To Mal.'\ Let none in. 
G. D. A fire is in my entrails. my God ! 

Is there no help? Have pity, Ferdinand, brother! 
Senn. I have sent for both your surgeons, dear my lord. 
One must now soon be here. 



ACT V. sc. 8. 347 



Card, [in a voice of thunder. 
\\\io bade thee, dog ? 
Make fast the door, [to Mai. 

Malocoure putting his torch through a scchet 
projecting from the ivall of the chamher, 
holts the door. 

They shall not enter here 
Till Heaven's act of vengeance is gone through, 
Senn. [leaving the G. Duke. 

I will go forth, oppose Avho may or dare, 
And make this treason public. Thou, [draiuing on Mai. 

stand back ! 
Card. Guard the door, ]\Ialocuore ! If he strive, 
Stab thou the gray-hair'd traitor to the heart ! 

Sennuccio and Malocuore — the latter his lack against 
the door — cross swords. 

G. B. Forbear, Sennuccio ! On thy oath ! Sole friend, 
Thou canst not stead us : aid would come too late. 
Ferdinand! could not mg life sufl&ce? 
Must thy fangs rend this innocent victim too ? 
Bian. [who has hitherto hung over her lord^ 
lifting 71010 Iter head. 
Die with the spirit of a man, my ford. 
Appeal not to that tiger. 

Card. Hast thou found 
Thy speech at last, vile sorceress ? It was thou, 
Thou with thy black enchantments and damn'd drugs, 



348 BIA^X•A CAPELLO 



Hast done this deed. The dose was meant for me. 
But thy weak husband took it unforewarn'd ; 

And thou, to escape the punishment 

Bian. Of what? 
Knows not the world, that poisoning my lord, 
Of will or not, I had done thee precious service ? 
Thou seek'st to make me guilty, yet thou knowest 
I bear within me what might blast thy hopes, 
Could I but live so long to give it life. 

For this, and thy defeated criminal j)assion 

G. D. Water ! water ! for the love of God ! 
Is there no drop ? 

Bian. And thou seest this, unmov'd! 

\to Card. 
And thou, God, art witness unto all ! 

G. D. I die, Bianca. Let thy — arms — thy lips 

/ With an effort^ he raises himself on one hnee. 
Emhracingj she hisses, him. lie falls, 
dead, across her feet. 

Bian. ]\Iy lord ! My lord ! 

I will not wail thee long. — 
Sennuccio, hear. — agony ! this thirst ! — 
Give — give me breath awhile, kind Heaven ! — 

Sennuccio, — 
The laws of God, thou seest, are irreversible, — 
And even our indiscretions — soon or late — 
Come to the judgment, and are all amcrc'd. 



ACT V. sc. 8. 349 



Tell — tell my sire, tins punishment I bear — 

In just requital — of my disregard 

Of his parental anguish, my neglect 

Of my fn-st duty — when — I fled my home ; 

And pray him — that he will not — not remember 

His child unkindly — for the one great sin — 

Of all her life. [Dies. 

Sennuccio, wlio has Jcndt on one Jcnee reverentJij 

heforelier^ hissing her hand^ fahes now this hand in both of 

his, and hends his head over it — remaining in 

this attitude to the end. 

Hal. [taJdng his torch from the soclcet and holding it 
over Bianca. 

'T is finish'd. [Inverts the torch^ against the 
fioor^ and extinguishes it. 
Card, [coldhj.] It is well. 
Throw back the door, and let the crowd swarm in. 

Malocuore opens ivide the door, and a strong 

light from tvithin, as from an illuminated corridor, 

is poured upon the group, — while 

Enter, ARcnBisnop of Pisa, Bentivoglio, 

and others of the Court. , 

Behold the consummation of the crime ! 



350 BIAXCA CAPELLO 



Let the Great Duke liave burial meet liis rank : 
The sorceress fling into the pubhc vaults. 

[Exit^ followed hy MaJocuor. 

The spectators gatlier soJemnhj round 

the partially lighted bodies — Sennuccio still heeping 

his p)osition — Bianca lying hack in the 

chair^ the Grand Duke across lier 

feet — and slowly the 

Curtain falls. 



NOTES 



NOTES TO BIANCA CAPELLO 



1.— p. 206. A shout, Pletro — ] The remark made ia Note (and sub- 
note) 2, of "The Double Deceit," (vol. IV. p. 255,) applies in this 
instance. The name, like Bianca, is made a trisyllable. But, though 
it is so far anglicized (with others in the play), let the Actor sound 
i as e and e as a. So with the fictitious and character-name Sennuccio* : 
although, by separating the two final vowels, it is made to be of foiu? 
syllables, give it otherwise the Italian pronunciation, and sound it 
Sen-noot'-che-o. 

Braociano, too, {Act III., Sc. 3,) though it is less important, has the 
first c sounded as t. In Italian, it is but of three syllables {Brat- 
cliali'-no) ; in the text, it is of four. 

2.— P. 210. TJien softly hade me rise and speak.'l For the Stage. 
omit from here to " My thoughts came back," nine lines below. 

3.— P. 213. Desires he feels not. Affluence cli2)s the icings. Of 
honesty which flies distress—] For the Stage, substitute, as more 
directly intelligible : 

♦ Sennino; diminutive oi Senno: applied jocosely, but without disparagement, 
to a person who, while yet young, has the gravity, the serious manners, and the 
prudence of age. We have a corresponding phrase, but comic and somewhat 
vulgar, and partakmg of the grotesque, in the compound Sobersides. 



854 NOTES TO 



" Emotions that he feels not. Wealth binds do-n-n [secures] 
The honesty that yields to want." 

Or: 

" Emotions that he feels not. Wealth keeps home 
The honesty that flies distress " — 

4.— P. 231. — toarcZ.] For tlie Stage, read " pallet." 

5.— P. 206. Forget tliy arf\ More plainly, for the Stage ; " Deal 
frankly once." Or, read the verse : 

" Forget the courtier. What is said of late ? " 

6.— P. 242. TT7(0 7ias, etc.] Or, if the Actress prefer it, 
" hate me not ! who have one only grief, 
The thought that thou art pining unconsol'd '' 

7.— P. 253. Her natural pride —1 See Note 22. 

8.— P. 256. Francis has cloistered 7«er— ] This he did on the very 
day of Cosmo's decease, who had most Uberally dowered Camilla. 
With this exception, says Galluzzi, Francesco acted conscientiously 
in all his father's trasts and legacies. Ist07\ del Granduc. di Toscana 
sotto il Gov. della Casa Medici (Firenze 17S1, in 4to), t. ii. pp. 239, 240. 
Previouslj^, (p. 176,) he tells us, she attempted to dominate the whole 
Court, to be the dispenser of favors, and sowed discord between 
father and son. And (p. 179): the Cardinal Ferdinand curried favor 
with Camilla, and obtained through her considerable sums of money 
for his lavish expenditures in Eome.— Whatever therefore the policy 
of the measure, the new Grand-duke may have felt liimself justified 
in putting this dangerous woman under restraint ; and subsequently, 
when, as will be seen, he released her on the marriage of her daughter 
Donna Virginia, her house became the rendezvous of the conspirators 
who, with the secret impulsion and aid of the Cardinal, rendered 
Francesco's reign and life at all times more or less unquiet. 



BIAXCA CAPELLO 355 



9.— P. 257. —whose near death Must come of Yictor's trhimjyh .'} 
This, as the exclamation-point denotes, is said ironically by Malocuor^ 
who appears to he reciting after what he calls the " psalms." But 
the historian just quoted, with his prejudice against Bianca, and 
his steadfast purpose (unknown perhaps to himself, yet obvious 
enough to his readers) to leave nothing unused that can be presented 
against her, or against the Grand-duke, whom he seems to hold in 
equal dislike, gravely recounts as a fact (ii. 299) what I have here 
made to be predicted as a malignant and extravagant calculation 
of the event. See Append. IT. y. 1578. 

10.— P. 257. The two princesses Exeunt, etc.'] The profligate Isa- 
bella is described as highly accomplished. It is credible. The Medici 
were not wanting in talent, whatever their moral deficiencies. To 
beauty and grace, says the historian of that House, she added letters, 
poetry, music, and the practice of various languages. Granducato ; 
ii. 2G8. It is noticeable that he touches very lightly, scarcely indeed 
perceptibly, the licentiousness of this princess.— See, in Appendix II., 
p. 378. 

11.— P. 259. But screen'd Ms strumpet sister in my spt7e.] This line 
is characteristic. But, if preferred for the Stage, it may read : 
" Eut kept my missives back, to screen his sister." 

12.— P. 27G. Master CappelU—] "Ciascuno si chiama a Firenze 
per . . . ec, e s' usa comunemente, se non v' e distinzione di grado 
e di molta etri, dire tu e non voi a un solo, e solo a' cavalieri a' dottori 
ed a canonici si da del messere, come a medici del maestro., ed a frati 
del padre." Vakchi. Storia Fior. III. p. 118, ed. Mil. (8o. 1803.) 

13.— P. 279. The Drop falls.] Here the play, being so far complete 
in itself, may, for the purposes of representation, be made occasion- 
ally to terminate, giving thus a shorter drama, although not finishing 
the tragedy as it is told in history. 



356 NOTES TO 



Further, though there is a considerable interval of time between all 
the Acts, the license of the romantic drama being in that respect 
stretched to the utmost, and though the space of time between the 
4th and 5th Acts is greater than that between the 3d and 4th, yet it 
strikes me as worthy of suggestion, that when the whole of the play 
is represented it might be well to have some interlude, of music or 
otherwise, between the falling of the Drop on the death of Bonaventuri 
and the rising of it again on the announcement of Bianca as Grand- 
duchess. Such leaps for the imagination of the spectator are, it is 
true, no more considered in our EngUsh drama, than they are for the 
reader, who makes them easily everywhere ; but it might be an aid 
to the illusion nevertheless, to adopt the hint I have suggested. 

14.— P. 280. — Have her w Itch's-arts Enchanted too your Highness ?] 
See latter half of Note 22, and in Appendix II. the 4th paragraph 
under y. 1576. 

15.— P. 283. Scene II.] Or, the first Scene continued, if preferred, 
with simply the new Entry : " Enter from opposite sides^ etc." 

16. — P. 2S3. 3Iet at Flrenzuol the pompous train.'\ Or, for the Stage, 
Eode forth to meet the ninety in advance : 
namely, the ninety Venetian nobles, mentioned in Act IT., Sc. 4, (page 
294.) Firenzuola is five miles from Florence (Flrenze.) 

The description of the pomp of the Venetian embassy and of its 
reception, of the solemn espousals of the Grand-duke with Bianca and 
her coronation as Queen of Cyprus, as given in Scenes 4 and 5 of Act 
IV., is historical. 

17. — P. 235. Our beast still ramped where gleams the lilied crown.l 
That is, from the crest. This gave way to the crown^ granted, as the 
pretentious legend on its circle indicates, by Pope Pius V. to Cosmo. 
To mollify the people, the centre of the circle bore a large red Uly^ 
the emblem of the Ptcpublic. 

Boundle is the general name for a circular charge. But in the arms 



EIAXCA CAPELLO 357 



of Medici, tlie tinctiu'e of the rouuclles being gules (red), and their 
shape convex (like a bun or a button), tlieir specific name is torleaux 
or torteauxes. In Italian however these charges are called palle 
(balls)*, which name conies nearer to the pellets ("gun-stones") of 
English heraldry ; but the xyellet is tinctured sahle. The reigning 
branch of the Medici carried or six torteaux (" sei palle rosse in campo 
d' oro")— six red balls in a field of gold. Of the three which are in 
cliief (upper third of the shield) the central one after 14G5 was blazoned, 
by concession of the King of France, " in segno di singulare afiezione," 
(Vine. Borgh. ut infra cit.) with t\\i:e& Jleurs-de-lys of gold, and there- 
fore it was made azure. 

For the verse in the text may be redd by the Stage : " Our gonfalon 
bore not the ducal crown." 

18.— P. 285. GoiVs might ! the throne of Clement's bastard son^ etc.] 
That is of the first Duke (or Doge, as was his title of installation,) 
Alessandi'o, who, although accounted a natural son of Lorenzo the 
Younger (Duke of Urbino) by a simple country-girl, f was more than 

* It is easy to see that this species of charge in the escutcheon would subject the 
Medici to the malice of their defamers, who said it represented the pills of the 
ancestral profession. This saying at least had humor in it ; but the explanation 
of their flatterers, who would haye it be emblematic of the marks made by the 
mace of a giant named Mugello killed by Averardo under Charlemagne (See 
Litta: Fam. Cel. Ital. {JslWa^no 1S25, in fol.) vol. ii.) is simply absurd. In fact 
these balls are of frequent occurrence in the arms of other Florentine families, as 
of the ForcihoHcld^ the Cipriani^ the Sqxuircialupi^ etc. Y. Borghini : DdV Anne 
delle Famigl. Fior. (Fiorenz. 15S5, in 4to, P. ii. p. 57.) Some of the 3Iedici bore 
seven palle, some eight, (ib. p. 73.) I think it not unlikely that the design arose 
from the bosses or studs which are sometimes seen in ancient bucklers. In the 
escutcheon of 1373, the peculiar crest from which issues the demibeast, whatever 
that be, rampant, is strewed with them,— in heraldic phrase, seme of toiteaiix. 

t When the Florentine exiles, or their partisans, wrote upon the walls of his lodg- 
ing at Eome, in allusion to his mother's place of birth, " Viva Alessnndro da Col- 
levecchio," he merely laughed, saying, he teas obliged to them for Tiaving 



358 NOTES TO 



suspected of being a bastard of Pope Clement VII.'s.* (See Varcht. 
lY., p. 344.) The mother herself was uncertain which of the two had 
the better claim to him.— Granduc. Introd. xxxii. V. App. J. n. 9. c 

Cosmo (or Cosimo, as the Italians write it), the successor of Ales- 
saudro (who left no legitimate children) and the father of Francesco 
and Don Pietro, was of a collateral branch of the Medici, being fourth in 
descent from the younger brother of the first Cosmo. Hence the 
epithet, "unlineal." 

As to the origin of this renowned family, Sansovino {Delia Origine 
e c7e' Fatti delle Famigl. Ulus. W Italia ; 4to., 15S2 : a mere caftiloguc) 
recounts (citing VUlani) the absurd fiction which made their descent 
from rulers in Greece. Galluzzi {Istor, ec. supra cit.) says their 
enemies reproached them with many low conditions : " di aver fatto 
il Carbonaio in Mugellof, 1' Oste e il Biscazziere [professional gamUei'} 

taught Mm whence he was^ which he did not Tcnow 5e/"we.— Yakchl Stor.^ ec, 
V. 193. Galluzzi says she was a housemaid, — Introd. p. xxxii. 

* Clement VII. (Giulio de' Medici), himself illegitimate, had two iilegitimate 
nephews, one the Alessandro above, the other Ippolito son of Giuliano. It vras 
left to his option by the Emperor Charles Y. which of the two should be made the 
head of their House and prince of the Eepublic. Ippolito is described by Yarchi 
as adorned with every grace of mind and body : " Era Ippolito Cardinal de' Medici 
in sul piu bel fiore dell' eta, non avendo piu di ventun' anno." [his competitor 
was a year younger] ; " era bellissimo e grato d' aspetto, era di felicissimo ingegno, 
era pieno di tutte le grazie e virtu, era affabile e alia mano con ognuno, era come 
quegli che ritraeva alia magnificenza e benignita di Le(me, e non alia scarsiiii 
e parsimonia di Clemente, liberalissimo verso tutti gli ucmini eccellenti, o in arme 
o in lettere, o in qualsivoglia altra deir arti liberali, «c." (Stor. iv. S45 sq.) 
Yet that true Pontiff, the slave of passion and of predilection and prejudice, and 
guided in public policy by a love of power without scrupulousness and t)y the 
dictates of a supposed self-interest that rendered him incnpable of the wisdom 
of a statesman, preferred to this princely character thcprofligate and incompetent 
Alexander. And this choice confirmed the belief of his paternity. 

t Fifteen miles from Florence. — There was the villa of Cosmo, the second Duke^ 
at the time of his election. 



BIAXCA CAPELLO 359 



inFirenze, e diavere aviito im Medico, ec." Their adulators derived 
them from Consuls and Emperors of Rome. Their reasonable origin 
is from a physician, said (by those who hold a middle com-se) to 
have been of Charlemagne. Galluzzi dates however the known rise of 
the Medici from Averardo (son of Averardo who loas Fodesth [Chief 
Magistrate, Bailiff (in the old sense) or Mayor] of Lucca, 12 50), who 
accumulated by commerce great riches,* divided in 1319 between his 
six sons. {1st. I. pp. X, xi. ) In the genealogical chart prefixed to 
Yarchi's History, Averardo (surnamed Bicci or Dl JBlce) is the base, 
and from him Giovanni rising is made Gonfaloniei-e, (literally, standard- 
bearer, as the moderns s&jAJfiere, but used like Fodesth^ to indicate the 
Chief Magistrate of the city,)t in 1421. The actual reign of the Medici 
as Dukes of Florence (through the subversion of the liberty of their 
country by Papal intrigues and the power of Austria) dates only from 
Alessandro just mentioned, the seventh in descent from Averardo, 
in the year 1532. 

For Bianca's blood, Galluzzi says (ii. 84) : " Her father, besides the 
gTcat authority which he had in the Eepublic, was connected by rela- 
tionship with its principal families. He had for his second wife a 
daughter of the House of Grimani, sister of the Patriarch of Aquileia.-' 

19.— P. 2SG. —thePregaai.l The Venetian Senate. 

20.— P. 287. Let hcr^ I say, Beware the Ca,nUnal 2IedicVs venom'd 
fang.] The entire Scene expresses my deliberate opiaion as to the 

* We see thus easily how, as Varchi observes (I. S), partly hy their prudence 
and liberality, partly through the imprudence and avarice of otiiers, but not 
without long trials and contests, among which must be counted then- banishment 
from Florence three times in ninety-four years, the House of Medici attained 
in fact, but not as yet in name, and in the face of perpetual enm'.tiL-s, and with 
the drawback of undying and dangerous hatred, the mastery of the Republic. 

t " E nel vero la slgnoria col gonfaloniere, e massimamente senza 1" appello, era 
magistrato tirannico, e per mezzo di lei, oltra mille altri fcandoli e so'.levamenti, 
si fece Cosimo poco meno chcpadroni as-soluto di Firenze." Varchi. lY. .342. 



360 XOTES TO 



history of the Grand-cluchcss Biauca. Taken with Appendix I., it will 
supersede with those who care not for autliorities, and scarcely trouble 
themselves at all with notes in a work of this nature, any exposition 
derived from the carelessness, the want of insight into character, or 
the criminal misrepresentation of historians. The more studious 
reader will find every satisfaction in Appendix II. — The Blographie 
Universelle indicates a Life of Bianca in these words : '■'- Siebenkees a 
ecritune vie de B. C. d' apres les sources originales, Gotha 1739, in 
8° . . . traduite en anglais par Ludger." This translation is on tlie 
Catalogue of the N. Y. Society Library, but has disappeared in some 
manner from its shelves, for after repeated inquiries I have failed to 
obtain any knowledge of its existence. 

21.— P. 288. The sorrow that, etc.] For the Stage, omit these two 
verses. 

22.— P. 289. Titian, haclhe Zif'cZ, Had pointed to the air of native 
pride That digyiifies thy Ijeauty, and had said, etc.] Noble saw tAVO 
likenesses of her at Strawberry Hill, one a miniatm'e, the other a por- 
trait ; " the former [taken] when Bianca was at the height of her 
charms, the other not long before her death. * * * Her countenance," 
he adds, " discovers that native pride which made her scorn to be 
anything less tlian wife even to a sovereign." Mem. lUus. House of 
Medici^ (Lond. 8°. 1797,) p. 287 sq. Although his argument, that, if she 
had yielded before marriage, the Duke " would have been content 
with her favors without marrying her," (p. 278,) I do not consider 
tenable,! yet the quality of mind he ascribes to our lieroine, if he did 

* An inaccui-ate and superficial work, which, although I have made use of it for 
the purposes of the drama, I cite only for the interesting item of the picturei. 

t And in fact there is the example of Cosmo, who married Camilla Martelli after 
she had borne liim Donna Virginia. A better confirmation of our heroine's chas- 
tity would be found perhaps in the fact of her private marriage with the Grand- 
duke. This ceremony was performed by the Duke's confessor two months after 
the death of Joanna (1578), according to Galluzzi, who adds: the guarcliaiiship 



BIA2>'CA CArELLO 361 



not mistake the pictured expression, is such as docs not accord with 
low profligacy, much less with the despicable traits which Galluzzi 
imputes to her, who indeed thereby contradicts his own description. 
"Assai potenti," he has said, speaking of Bianca when Francesco 
was yet but Prince, " erano le attrative di questa giovine, poiche oltre 
i meriti della bellezza aveva ancora ottenuto dalla natura un ingegno 
tale che somministrava tutte le arti per renders! 1' arbitra del suo 
amante. Le grazie, la vivacith congiunta con una certa faconcUa,^^ ec. 
(pp. 87, 88, t. c.) This fascination the pubUc were tauglit to consider 
tlie result of magic arts and of philters ; and the eulogist of the Cardinal 
Orand-duke has not hesitated gravely to record the scandal. See in 
Ajij^endix II. " y. 1576," 4th paragraph. 

Titian, who (as said in Act I. 8c. 4.,) actually painted Bianca, (See 
Append. III.) died three years before the point of time in the text. 

23.— P. 290. Joy for the offsirring, hope of which I nurse— } From 
this line to the close of the passage, the Stage will substitute : 

For my throne's heritage, thou this day shalt be 
Dower'd by thy country with those honors which 
The world will value. Thy true crown is here. 

24.— P. 290. When Your Highness- brother— '\ Omit from here to 
*' But for tills cause,"— seventh line below. 

of the three princesses took airay suspicion from her living in the Palace. Had 
Bianca yielded her favors already, there had been no need of a private mar- 
riage, and if her amour with the Duke were notorious, there could have been, 
in the first place, no occasion for avoiding suspicion, and secondly, if attempted 
by such an artifice it would not have been successful. Xot to say, that a known 
mistress of the Grand-duke would not have been appointed guardian to his female 
childien, although, as in the case of Mad. de Genlis, a liai>son simply suspected 
would offer no impediment. But all argument falls to the ground if it be fact 
that Don Antonio de' Medici, whether really her son or only imposed upon the 
Grand-duke as such (as Galluzzi would have it), was publicly recognized as ille- 
gitimate. See Appendix II. y. 1576 ; also ih. note 24, p. 408. 



362 NOTES TO 

2.5.— P. 291. TldIcs lia2)py^ etc.] Omit liere five lines. 

2G.— P. 298. Tlie Ambassadors — ] Omit from here to "About this 
lioiu'," (niiitli line below.) 

27.— P. 299. My father, etc.] Omit to " But I should shame to own." 

28.— P. 299. And her too—'] Omit to "This coronation over,"— 
seven verses. 

29.— P. 299. She cannot live., etc.] The most difficult point for mo 
to get over in the biased statements of the hostile historians is Bianca's 
expressions to the Cardinal at the close of the y. 1580 (in a letter) : 
" lo vivo pill a lei che a me, poiche vivo in lei, per il che senzaleinon 
posso vivere, ec.^''—{Granduc. ii. 344, ) See, besides the CardinaVs own 
doubts in the succeeding lines, what turn Bianca is made to give to 
them in Act V. Sc. I. They are however too extravagant, I will not 
say to be genuine, (for I have known at least one spmtual and viva- 
cious woman of high breeding and of proud temper, and who possessed 
that very fluency of language which Galluzzi ascribes to Bianca, to 
indulge in quite as extravagant terms of affection in vrriting to a 
stranger to her blood, neither husband nor lover, and with even less 
motive)*— but too extravagant to seem genuine ; and the malice that 
did not hesitate to blacken her in other respects would find no com- 
punction against such a counterfeit. But supposing them to be truly 
of Bianca's writing, and that they are not to be interpreted by any 
vivacity of disposition and vanity of eloquence, what follows ? That 
there was more than a legitimate attachment between the Cardinal 
and his brother's wife. And this is to concede the whole point in dis- 
cussion, and to justify, even historically, the part I have, equally 
with the romancer (or romancers,) assigned to the Cardinal. V. Ap- 
pend. I. 

* One tiling is worth observing ; such persons cannot be sincere. If Ehmca dicJ 
write that letter, she was wanthig in candor. 



EIA2sXA CAPELLO 363 



30.— P. 300. Xo, it were better^ etc.] Omit to ''As j'et,"— eleventh 
line below ; then omit tlie words '' To rectify this wrong." 

31.— P. 309. From taint by such a traitor— traitor, ay .'] Which may 
read, at the option of the Theatre : 

From taint by such a traitor. 

Card. Traitor! 

Bian. Ay! 

32.— P. 310. Death! ^ I should sink to this!] Or, avoiding the 
ellipsis : "Death ! Am I come to this !" 

33.— P..320. She might have had, etc.] This was his mistress, a 
handsome woman, whom he had brought back with him from Madrid 
in 1584. The Prince in his profligacy seemed to expect that she 
Avould be admitted at Comt, and was displeased when Bianca, as was 
natural and proper, refused to receive her. V. Granduc. II. 3S7. 

34._p. 322. The Pope gives dispensation — ] See A2:>pcndix II. at 
y. 1585. 
Immediately before the verse (in Act III. Sc. 4.), 

" T\'hen I throw off this purple which I hate," 
occurred in the first MS. the following three verses. They were 
superfluous, therefore weak. I introduce them here simply to illus- 
trate the text above, and, historically, the Cardinal's ambitious and 
intriguing character, which was in fact the character of a true chui'ch- 
man where ambitious, — profligately so. 

The Pope is my creation, hence my creature. 

For he sees not, weak man, that not of love, 

But for my ends, I help'd to heave him up. 

33.— P. 326. Virought by the Duchess and a Jewish hag Confeder- 
ate in her sorceries, etc.] See Appendix II., y. 157G. 

36.— P. 32S. Waiter brings wine and glasses, is paid and retires.] 



364 NOTES TO 



But to keep up the life and variety of the j^iciure in the background, he 
moves about in the discharge of his functions, carrying flasks etc. to 
the different tables. — The Stage requires hints of this kind, but I am 
sorry to tliink is not likely to observe them. 

37.— P. 331. JH'ot CinVs surgery — ] Cini \Yas the Cardinal's physician. 

38. — P. 332. Whose lightning, hurilcd by the lion's cub, etc.] Or, 
for the Stage : 

"Whose lightning, hurl'd by Peter Leoncil, 
Whom men call Cardinal Farnese's son, 
Frightens the confines with its devious blaze. 
*' Lion's cub" is an allusion to the name Lioncillo (leoncello.) 

This miscreant was actually at the head of the large number of men 
named in the text. The historian tells us, that brigandage and assas- 
sination had come to be considered knightly service. As now-a-days 
in Italy the Church has been, from political motives or from indiffer- 
ence to the public welfare, the great supporter of such wretches, so in 
those times it was the Church-feudatories chiefly that had them in 
service. See Aj^pend. 11. y. 1580, IT 2, — also y. 1575, IT 2. As men 
above the vulgar herd joined these blood-bands, the language at least 
attributed to the assassins in the text is not greatly beyond their 
degree, whatever may be thought of their sentiments. 

39. — P. .''.32. They put wise Ilachiavelli to the rack — ] This was 
nearly a century before. Machiavelli died in 1527, sixty years before 
the time of the Scene. But the condition of things was not much 
changed from that of his troubled day, and his was a name not easily 
to be forgotten, any more than that of '' Antichrist" (Clement VII.) 

40.— P. 337. Sign,] For the Stage, commence: ''Donna Virginia 
absent etc. ? " 

41.— P. 338. Then seriously.] Omit to "my well-loving spouse," 
and read the passage : 



EIAXCA CAPELLO 365 



Then seriously, thus. My loving spouse 
Seem'd etc. 
After which, make the last two linos of the part : 

In the blue hangings of the SilverM Room, more pleasM 
To glad etc. 

43.— P. 339. Who lias not seen — ] Omit to "It is said," ninth line 

below, reading the verse : 

To cloud the unwary brain. 'Tis freely said. 

Then omit, from "Did yom' Grace,-' thirty-one lines, reading thus, 

from the commencement of the alteration : 

And made your parting mournful. 

Yijg. Yet I doubt 
The Duchess'' heart etc. 

Or in fine, omit, in the performance, the entire Scene, which was 
written merely to interpose time between the revelation of Malacuor's 
design and its perpetration. But our English Stage (as I have else- 
where had occasion to remark) sets time and space at defiance ; and 
the accustomed audience rarely protests against any violation of 
probability that saves them from fatigue. 



ADDITION TO NOTE 18. 

The influence of a family of wealth will depend greatly upon its numbers and 
Its ramifications. Galluzzi, as an evidence of the potency of the Medici, records this 
fact, that even after the pestilence of 1348, there were no less than fifty males of 
that House surviving. Inirod. xi. Without this numerical preponderance, it 
may be questioned whether, notwithstanding their riches and their talents, their 
ambition could have made head against the determined opposition of their rivals 
and of the better lovers of their country. 

Of the Capelli, Bern. Segni, who wrote under Francesco, particularizes the am- 
bassador Carlo, mentioned in the text {Act. I. So. IV.), who, he tells us, raised in 
Florence a monument to his horse, which was standing in his, the historian's day. 
Siorie Fior. vol. i. ed. Milan, (1805, in 8°) p. 225. We may suppose the Car- 
dinal Grand-duke, in his anxiety to remove every object that might recall the 
memory of Bianca {Append. II. prope fin.), ordered this monument, whatever it 
was, to be destroyed. Another Capello (Vincent) is mentioned by the same his- 
torian as being General of the Venetians. lb. ii. 151. 



\: 



APPENDICES 



Tlie foUoicing observations, intencled at the time as the sole appendix 
to the play, were loritten six years after the completion of the latter^ 
ichen I had forgotten that I had so fully illustrated in my text evenj 
particular that tears upon the story, as to render any comment or ex- 
planation needless. Still, as a brief analysis of the historic question 
involved, they may not be uninteresting to the general reader. 

The footnotes are of the date of the transcription. 



For many of the incidents, and even for tlie groundwork or sug- 
gestive type of some of the characters in Bianca Capello, I am largely 
indebted to the romance of the same name by A. G. Meissner {Leipz. 
in ICto, 1784), who probably obtained his particulars from the collec- 
tion of Celio Malespini of Verona, Part. II. Isov. 84, which I have not 
seen, but iind particularized by Galluzzi as conspicuous among several 
written on Bianca's fortunes. (1) 

(1) Granducato, ii. p. S5. The historian speaks of Mondragone and his wife 
as intermediary, in the romance, between the Grand-duke and Bianca, but, with 
his usual inconsiderate or malevolent bias, only to cast a slur upon the latter by 
remarking that the Duke had found no need of go-betweens. Francesco might 
have, and, with still more likelihood, would have found the need, in his position, 
even were Bianca the " vile seducer " that Galluzzi and his copyists make her» 



368 BIANCA CAPELLO 

The character of Biauca will always perhaps be a subject of historical 
doubt. The weight of authority is against her. She was probably 
weaker than I have made her (2); but I do not believe she was de- 
praved or grossly criminal. The historian of the Grand-duchy of Tus- 
cany has spared no pains to render her atrocious. His large work, 

But that is not the point. Ifondragone is introduced by that very name, and 
■with his wife, in that very function, by Meissner. He is the Jialocuore of the 
Tragedy. 

In B.oscoq's Italian Novelists, vol. III. (Lond. in S°. 1S36), some specimens 
are given of Celio, but not the story of Bianca. Celio Malespini, who held, 
■we are told, the post of Secretary to Francesco, is supposed to have begua 
•writing his numerous little novels soon after 1575. P.oscoe translates after the 
edition in 4to. Ve7iesin 16Q9. " In many instances,'' he says {Infrod. ibi,) "the 
mention of persons and of particular times and places, is introduced. It is thus 
he alludes to Bianca CappcUo, afterwards consort of Francesco de' Medici, grand 
duke of Tuscany, whose nuptials were celebrated in 1579, and are very minutely 
described by the novelist." — It will depend upon the time when his novel was 
written and the place where published whether the whole story is told by Celio or 
not. If the above-mentioned edition was the first, we may well suppose it, for the 
Cardinal Grand-duke died in that year, and the volume it will be seen bears the 
imprint of Venice. — Meissner would seem to refer to some unedited memoir, 
6ome private scandalous chronicle, as the chief source of his materials. " Jenes 
benifne Manuskript von der geheimen Geschichte des Hauses Medizes, welches 
Orrery nutzte, und worauf Sansovino, nebst noch manchem anderm baute, mag 
allerdings f.'.r den wahren Ilistoriker und Biographen uichtzuHnglich sicher seyn ; 
fur den Ilalb-Koman hat es eine trefliche Eigenschaft, — Interesse. " Vorerinn. 
"Was this done to conceal his obligations to the Italian romancer ? 

(2) See subnote on p. 360 sq. Bonaventuri was killed in 1570. The Duchess 
Joanna died in 1578. In all that interval, a widow, besieged by the passionate 
assiduities of a royal lover, and surrounded by courtly examples both of unchas- 
tity and of the indifference with which it was regarded, in an age of very general 
profligacy, she would have been indeed a Penelope (as Isabella, calls her in 
mockery,)— no, more — if she had not yielded. But there are two sides to the 
story of Penelope as well as of Bianca, and some ancient writers J:ave made the 
wife of Ulysses the common mistress of all her suitors. Cs. App. II, note 5. 



APPEXDIX I. 369 

written expressly to glorify the duchy and its petty sovereigns, (3) 
enters into details which waken more than incredulity, and few 
thoughtful persons can rise from his discolored and distorted portrait- 
ure of the fair Venetian and his carefully toned miniature of the 
Cardinal Ferdinand, without a conviction that the pictures in their 
general effect might change places. 

The Cardinal, a false brother and a bad man (4), in a family where 
murder and incest were familiar crimes, had cast a longing eye on the 
grand-ducal crown, which the physical infirmity of his brother's 
spouse made it more than probable would one day be his own. When 
Bianca, by no other means that I can see or suppose, than the magic 
of her beauty and her manners, ascended the throne as the legitimate 
successor of Joanna, all his schemes seemed to be blown to the winds. 

(3) And -written under tlie patronage and by the command, as he himself ex- 
presses it, of the then reigning monarch, a younger son of the House of Austria, 
whose lofty name he puts upon the very title-page, withholding reverently his own. 
The favor of this prince (Peter-Leopold, afterwards Emperor of Austria,) would 
certainly not be forfeited by an endeavor to blacken the character of the Arch- 
duchess' rival. 

And here I may as well state, in preparation for the whole of the Appendix fol- 
lowing, that Galluzzi claims to have drawn his material exclusively from the 
Medicean Archives, . . ^'tutte estratte fedelmente dalV ArcJihno Jfediceo.'''' 
In the same brief advei tisement, however, he alludes to the existence of popular 
fallacies as to certain events, and tells us he enters into minuteness of detail there- 
in, for the very purpose of correcting these errors of belief and of tradition, — of 
course by the Archives. Kow, are the Archives infallible? Are they, in fact, 
entire ? or in their entirety, veritable ? Would the Cardinal have been likely to 
leave anything that would tend to inculpate him in the matter of Eianca and the 
Grand-duke, or not to give prominence as well as permanence to inventions which 
would account morally for his detestation of the former, and palliate, with most 
men, the atrocity of his unchristian and unprincely efforts to blacken for ever her 
memory ? He had the power to tamper with the xirchives, and he was not a man 
to leave it unnsed. Consult, in Appendix II., Note 12, also 19. 

(4) See below, in Note 15, what Sismondi says of him. 

16* 



310 Bi a:\ca capello 



And when finally, as Grancl-duchess, she was about to become a mo- 
ther, he resolved to rid himself by one blow of both obstacles to his 
ambition. Bianca's great v/eakness, as well as 'doubtless one of her 
principal attractions, seems to have been a benevolent amiability. 
She did her best at all times to reconcile her lord with the Cardinal, 
whose profligate intrigues and importunate avarice had alienated his 
clucal brother. And she succeeded only too well. The Cardinal is 
invited to a banquet. He refuses to partake of the blancmange which 
was his inviter's favorite dish, and when both Bianca and the Grand- 
duke, after eating freely of it, are seized at the very table with pangs 
that denoted poisoning, he prevented all assistance from being ren- 
dered to either, had them shut up indeed in a disfurnished and gloomy 
chamber of the villa, and took measures even before their death to 
secure possession of the fortresses and put down by armed force any 
attempts that should be made to prevent his becoming master of the 
city, (o) Proclaiming loudly that the Dake and Duchess had attempted 
to poison him and by mistake had swallowed their own bane, he re- 
tracted this absurd invention by declaring there was no poison in tho 
case at all, that the Duke and Duchess had both died of a surfeit. (6) 
As this story was more absurd, if possible, than the other, since tho 
deaths were nearly simultaneous, and the preceding symptoms had 
indicated some sudden and violent action upon the vitals, he had tho 
bodies opened. Now at that day science had not advanced so far as 
to make the detection of the secret administration of poisons, espe- 
cially if of a vegetable origin, in all cases possible. Indeed even at the 
present time, it is known, and we have authority for the assertion, 
that there are venene substances whose operation cannot be traced 
after death. (7) And this must be particularly the case, to ocular in- 

(5) There was no hesitancy on his part. The commander of the citadel at Log- 
horn showing some unwillingness to acknowledge his authority, the Cardinal had 
him hung. See Appendix II., Note 24. 

(6) See Appendix II., y. 15S7, second paragraph. 

(7) I have mislaid a newspaper quotation from a lecture bj'our town-mm Prof. 



APrEXDix I. 371 



spection, where the poison has been slow in its effects, because, in the 
first place, of its probable elimination from the system, (8) and, second- 
ly, of the liability to confound its indications with those of natural dis- 
ease. Now, if the account which Galluzzi gives of the tertian fever 
with its vehement t]iirst{d) which seized the Duke and Duchess so sin- 

Doremus, beaiing directly upon this point. Eut it will be sufficient to cite the 
following, in respect to metallic poisons, which can be traced : — 

... " It is known, that three or four grains of arsenic, a quantity insiifficient 
to produce any striking local changes, will destroy a person under all the usual 
symptoms of poisoning by this substance. The same may be said of corrosive 
sublimate : — three or four grains of this poison icovld siiffice, to kill an adv.lt; 
and yet^ivom this small quantity, ^Ae local changes woxdd he barely percep- 
tihle.'" Taylor, 07i Poisons in relat. to Med. Jxir. &c. (Phil. ed. 8°. 3848) p. 27. 
And again : '• That death should ever take place in poisoning, without any physical 
changes being produced on the body, is not more wonderful than that it should 
occur under attacks of tetanus or hydrophobia, in which diseases, as is well known, 
no post-mortem appearances are met with sufficient to account for their rapidly 
fatal course." {Jb^ 

But this is still more complete : 

. . . "To take arsenic as an example, — if the dose has Veen (>mall, and the 
person has survived the effects for a certain period, it is not likely that the 
poison uill l>e detected in the soft organs of the body. Tlie deceased may have 
survived long enough for the whole of the poison to te expelled. According to 
Eriand, after ten, twilce, or ffteen days, not apo.rticle of arsenic or tartarized 
antimony tcill he discovered in the bodies of animals poisoned by either of these 
substances. {lb. p. SO.) See further on same page. 

The subject is resumed in Append. II., Note 22. 

(S) As I have shown in Note 7, Briand gives te?i, twelve. And ffteen days for the 
complete disappearance of the poison. Orfila himself {Traite de Toxicol. 5« ed. 
Paris, in 8°.; t. l.p. 427) assigns f/wn tadve to ffteen. The Grand-duke sur- 
vived eleven and Bianca ten days, — according to the Archives. 

(9) See, in Appendix II., y. 15S7, and footnote. — The Cardinal Ippolito de' 
Medici was affected similarly, and died after four days' illness ; that is, according 
to Varchi ; but six, as I compute it ; for he was attacked on the 5th of August and 
expired on the lOth, (1535.) The moment after he had eaten the troth in which 



872 BIAXCxV CAPELLO 

gulaily, and so conveniently for tlie Cardinal, within two days of each 
other, and terminated, with an interval of a single day, in the death 

the poison TS'as conveyed, the Cardinal began to suffer. He grew rapidly worse, 
" and went on wasting little by little and having coniinually a verTj slight and 
sloio fever.'''' {Stor. Fior. v. 131, 132.) He was poisoned, as some supposed, by 
his cousin Duke Alexander(a), as others, by Pope Paul Ill.(b) That most fear- 

(a) The most probable hypothesis. And if what Segni appears inclined to believe, although he cites the 
story merely as a rumor of the day, be true, viz., that Ippolito had previously tried to blow up the Duke with 
gunpowder {tioI. ii. f. 85), the latter might, if the rumor were current before the death of Ippolito, have satis- 
fled his own conscience by the supposition of its truth, if afterward, he might himself have originated it as 
an offset to his own atrocity. One scarcely knows what to hold to, in so contradictory accounts ; but such a 
crime, besides that it is plausible to attribute the attempt to the known political enemies of Alessandrc, who 
were many of them zealous but not over-scrupulous friends of liberty, one of whom finally effected bis assas- 
sination, such a crime is inconsistent with the character of the young Cardinal, who, though passionately 
ambitious, and openly resentful of the injustice done him in the elevation of hia junior, Alexander, had 
nothing in his impetuous, candid, and generous character which allows us to impute to him the design of a 
coward and a murderer. Unfit to be a churchman, partial, almost ostentatiously, to arms and to the chase 
(see Appendix III.), he led the life of a gay but not dissipated prince, and died, according to Segni himself, 
with unaffected piety and with the modest charity of a Christian — as a Christian should be. This local 
historian tells us, very differently from Varchi, that the ill-fated young man expired in thirteen hours after 
the attack, and that two of his friends died subsequently ; for, according to Segni, instead of the Cardinal's 
being indisposed and in bed when the poisoned broth was brought to him, he and his friends were sujping- 
together gaily at Itri. — Such is history ; Varchi, writing under Cosmo, and Segni under his successor ; yet, 
in so tragical an incident, varying both as to the inception and the termination of the affair ! It is, that, 
in such a case. Rumor, never perhaps single-voiced, has more than the usual number of tongues. The latter 
writer continues : The friends of the Duke ascribed the murder to Pope Paul, "come quegli che, desideroso' 
de' gran benefiti pcsseduti da lui per dare al Card. Farnese, 1' avesse in questo modo fatto morire." Some 
indeed ascribed the event to the pestilential air (as Bianca and Francesco's death was attributed to inter- 
mittent fever.) Segni considers it the truest and most certain report, which lays it at the door of Duke 
Alexander. (IS. 83, sq.) 

(b) Alessandrc da Farnese, Cardinal d' Ostia, — who succeeded Clement VII. in that i hair whose existence- 
still remains, but will probably not much longer, the opprobrium of human sense and of manhood, and should 
make a Christian blush to throw imposture in the teeth of Mohammedans, — the so-called seafrof St. Peter, 
who never put a round in it. According to Varchi (an historian of rare ingenuousness) Paul III. was a 
finished dissembler, concealing his real vices by outward decorum and sanctity, (ii. 69.) It is likely ; it 
belonged to his profession and his place. He died, this man who could be suspected in his eld age of causing:- 
a cowardly assassination, to swell by misappropriation, not to say robbery, the state and splendor of his 
reprobate bastard son* and of his grandchildren (see again Varchi in loo. cit. 134, 5. The detail, after his 
faulty but interesting manner, is curious. Also, from p. 2fO to end of the vol.)— he died, this Vicegerent of 
Christ, with the words : If my family had not ruled me, I should be stainless. Everybody remembers what 
Hildebrand's last words were, what Cardinal Wolsey's, what perhaps those of a dozen gallows-birds, as well 
as princes of the Church, have been. When a man has lied and dissembled all his life, he will not be likely 
to want a good name after death, if an additional falsehood can buy it for him. The vulgar superstition 

* It is useful to my vindication of the character of Bianca, to note here another striking historial discrep- 
ancy. This scapegrace, who, according to Galluzzi, had all the vices of Duke Valentine [Caesar Borgia] with- 
out his talents {IntT . liv.), and of whom Varchi tells in detail that revolting personal outrage which ended in 
the death of the gentle Bishop of Fano (S. F. ap.finem), is described by Segni (an intelligent as well as honest 
writer) as not without learning and well able to behave himself (HA. 13".— u. iii. p. 14.) Again, on the other 
hand, his father, Paul III., who, Eli-like, encouraged his profligacy by his criminal indifference or impolitic 
leniency, was, according to the first-named author, a man of rare talents and of extraordinary sagacity ! (lb. 
liii.) 1 wish to enforce on the reader's sense these continual dissonances in judgment and in fatl-record, 
and must be pardoned for a little irrelevancy. 



APPENDIX I. 373 



of both, be correct(lO), the former was eleven days suffering, and the 
latter ten, and the difficulty of detection would be very greatly in- 
creased. Besides, these investigators, if they were such (for there is 
no mention of anything more than the opening of the bodies and a 

ful, because least evitable, mode of assassination, whicli in the beginning of tlie 
century had flourished under the auspices and with the cooperation of the Holy 
See, was still horribly familiar to the great. Trancesco himself was suspected of 
practising it, and Cosmo was, as mentioned in the text, accounted "a subtle 
poison-mixer," (See Appendix II. ad init.) Yarchi has several stories of the 
kind, as e. (/., besides that of the Cardinal Ippolito, the remarkable one of the 
beautiful Luisa Strozzi, wife of Luigi Capponi, poisoned by her own relatives on 
mere suspicion of the likelihood of her falling a victim to the libertinism of 
Duke Alessandro (v. 104-106), but according to Segni by the Duke himself, be- 
cause she had refused to yield to his desires(c). Stoi'ie Flor. I. 7'^. (vol. II. p. 
€5, sq. ed. Mil. 1S05, in 8''.) 

(10) But I have argued that the record of the Medicean Archives cannot in the 
story of Bianca be accepted as correct and is not likely to be even truthful. Xoie 
(3) : also various places in Append. II. It is said that in the Introduction of the 
work cited in Append. II. Note 4, Miss Strickland, on the authority of Evelyn, ac- 
cuses Burnet of destroying liistorical autographs. Yet the Bishop of Sarum was 
both a good man and a virtuous prelate. The Cardinal Grand-duke was neither, 
even in the eyes of Sismondi, and he hated Bianca with a hatred which he took 
no pains to conceal. Append. II. pr.finem. 

which beVieves that in the death-hour nothing ran be nitored but the truth is a convenient one, nor will either 
Paul III. be the last vicious personage, nor Elizabeth Surratt the last convict, whose final declaration will be 
accepted by a partial historian, or be availed of by a cunning barrister, as evidence of innocence. 

(e) Yet Segni, whose honesty as a writer is unquestioned, claims for such a monster, who he tells iis (ii p 
20) corrupted even the sacred virgins and committed in the very sanctuary (like the diabolical Pope John 
XII., or the corsair-pope, the 23rd of that pontifical name) "assai vergcgne nefande ", both abilities and 
good dispositions, and attributes {fTiis unphilosophically, if not absurdly) his immeasurable licentiousness to 
evil counsels. It had been more rational to ascribe it to the gift of his mother, aided by that profligate in 
purple the Cardinal Giulio — or by the Cardinal's coachman. But in conclusion he admits, that he was " uni- 
versally hated", because, notwithstanding his even-handed justice, high courage, and resolute will, "he had 
•withal acquired the name of cruel, of voluptuous and impious, to such a degree that he had become an object 
of disgust to everybody." (lib. 8°. frope init.) All of which furnishes one of many instances of the diffi- 
culty which attends the search for truth in history. 

I may add, as being of interest and not ungerman to my text, what Segni has to say of Alexander's illegiti- 
macy. It appears that a third party, as 1 have just hinted, might have put in a claim for priority with the 
two Medici. . . "Alessandro de' Medici, il quale era figlio naturale di Lorenzo, nato d' una schiava ehiamata 
Anna, la quale avendo avuto ancora che fare con Giulio Priore di Capua e poi Papa CKmente, ed ancora con 
tin vttturale, che tenevano in casa quando erano ribcUi, era inccrto di chi fosse figliuolo." ^t. i. ed. cil. p. 165. 



374 BIANCA CAPELLO 



simple inspection of the viscera,) avouIcI understand it was the Car- 
dinal's pleasure they should not find anything to confirm suspicion, 
and it would have been a miracle of independence and moral courage 
had they dared under the circumstances to disappoint him. (11) Here 
the infamy of this vile churchman does not end. Giving orders for 
the sumptuous burial of his brother, he had Bianca thrown upon the 
common heap of bodies of the abandoned poor and vicious. This 
might have been done to confirm in men's minds the opinion he had 
diligently disseminated of her utter wortlilessness and of his disgust 
and hatred of an adventuress and " sorceress " who had dishonored 
temporarily his family. But there was something more than this in 
his conduct ; it evinced a rage that was savagely vindictive ; the rage 
of a bad man who had been more than disappointed, who was con- 
scious that he had betrayed himself and hated the involuntary posses- 
sor of his degrading secret. In short I believe, that, as I have painted 
him, and the romancers before me, the Cardinal had offered love to 
his brother's wife (it was quite in the mode of the family) and to his 
dismay been rejected. The indications of this doubly criminal passion 
can not have escaped historians. The Capello family, one of the rich- 
est and most distinguished noble liouses in Venice, was as good as 
the Medici in its origin, and the Venetian Republic in its desire to 
exalt Bianca (which it would not have shown — despite the insinu- 
ation of Boita( 12) — were lier life infamous) had made her Queen of 

(11) In the case of the Cardhial Ijipollto, the body lifter deatli became discolored, 
and, on opening it, the omentum (caul) was found corroded. But his household 
were interested in finding the traces of poison. Those who performed the like 
operation on Francesco and Bianca were interested in not finding such evidence^ 
and the examination on then- part was probably one for form, as on the part of 
the Cardinal Duke it was a challenge to the suspicion of his enemies. See Ap- 
pendix II. Note 22. 

(12) Who, as an historian, should have had knowledge enough of liumanity to 
understand what was going on everywhere around him. A change of fortune for 
the better obliterates at once, or at least veils over for the time being, all previous 



APPENDIX I. 375 



Cyprus. Thus put on a par with the Grand-duke, what plea could the 
Cardinal have found for making that immeasurable distinction between 
them after their common death ?(!?>) In the rage of his hatred, this 
prince of the Christian Church furnished one of the verj' best facts in 
evidence of a criminal passion whose repulse had outraged his ex- 
travagant pride and Avoiuided past cure a self love Avhich was the most 
vital part of his spirit. 

Like Philip II. of Spain, and, I may add, Henry Till, of England, 
the Grand-duke Ferdinand of Tuscany is represented with smooth face 
and fair and efTemiuate features. They were the mask of a character 
which had the revengeful malice, the remorseless cruelty, the treach- 
erous cunning and hypocrisy, and the immeasurable ambitionof a bad 
and masculine woman. (1 4) 

And yet this man made a wise, a politic, and even, it is sai;l, just 
sovereign. (15) The case is not singular either in Europe or in the 

disadvantages, and when Botta sneers at tlie eagerness with which both the 
Capello family and the Venetian Eepublic made ha^te to acknow edge and to 
glorify the adventuress as Grand-duchess whom as a fuj:itive they had proscribed 
and proclaimed for punishment, he forgets one of the commonest of the traits of 
the human character. Woul 1 he not himself have found splendor in the risen sun 
if its rays fell on his stand-place, or would lie have got out of its warmth in winter? 
The dogs are wiser, and the moth, though it rushes to its own destruction, has a 
better instinct. I affirm that Bianca's f;imily acted in both instances precisely as 
every other family would have acted, and were in neither poshion mean or un- 
reasonable. 

(13) If it be said, because he held her to be worthless, the " possiraa Bianca " he 
afterwards declared her {v. Append. II. op.^'n.), then his brother should have 
shared the same fate, and their common father before them. Where was Isabella 
buried ? 

(14) All of which traits happen to have been the moral features, UL;ly to de- 
formity, of the Medici m general. 

(15) Sismondi says, and well, of Ferdinand: "He had as much talent for gov- 
ernment as one can have without virtue, and as much pride as one can preserve 
V ithcut nobleness of soul." liejx If. (Paris, 1840, in 8°.) f. x. p. 227. We have seen (p. 



376 BIANCA CAPELLO 



East. The Mogul Emperor, Aurungzebe, attained the throne on which 
he sat so nobly, by the murder of more than one brother. 
August IG, 1861. 



II. 



Being extracts from memoranda taken during the preparation for 
Ads III.^ lY.^ and V., ivith additions and comments subsequently 
made. 

Cosmo bore the reputation of being a subtle maker of poisons ; 
y. 1574:. and it is certain he endeavored to destroy Strozzi by them. 

But Strozzi did the same for him. Galluz. Granduc. ii. 185. 
The historian's language is positive : " E certo che egli tento di usarne 
contro lo Strozzi." Yet observe the high character which he gives to 
Cosmo, after this charge and the assertion that his criminal laws, 
founded on the Spanish maxims then prevalent in all Italy, were ab- 
solutely destitute of every sentiment of humanity, and "egli venerava lo 
istruzioni e i consigli del suoi congiunti Vice Re Don Pietro di 
Toledo(l) e Duca d' Alva, che furono i due piii sanguinari Ministri 
che abbino conculcato 1' umanita " {ih.) ; and then see to what amounts 
the like charge against Francesco. S'smondi, who says that Cosmo 

S7o, subnote (■) that even-h(indecl justio3 is assigne 1 to that infamous profligate, 
Duke Alexander. Here are the very words of Pegni, and in detail : " le quali [sc le 
faccende pubbliche] . . . egU amniinistrava da si' stcsso con grand' aniino e con 
molta risoluzione, ed avrebbc soddisfatto in gran parte alia giustizia, perche la 
faceva al piccolo come al grande, ed udiva volentieri le povere genti, se i piaceri 
giovenili noir avessonodistrattopur troppo da questi consigli, ecy Stor. Fior. lib. 
6°. t. 11. p. 19. 

(1) This D. Pietro dl Toledo, Viceroy of Naples, confessed la 1553 to a Secretary 
of Duke Cosmo's, that, after his possession of the government, there perished in 
the single city of Naples by the hands of justice eighteiu tJioiisand persons. 
Granduc. Tiitrod. p. 2. 



APPENDIX II. 377 



had established a manufactory of poisons in his palace under the pre- 
tence of making chemical experiments, (the passage is quoted under 
y. 1578,) is more consistent, although we shall see that in his summing- 
up of the character of Francesco, he contradicts not only Galluzzi, but 
certain facts which do not depend upon the allegations of historians. 
And Botta, we shall find, does just the same. See note 20. 

A year after the death of Cosmo. — The conspiracy against 

1575. Cosmo, and for which Pandolfo Pucci had atoned with his life in 
1560, was renewed against his successor, and by the son of this 

very Pucci, Orazio, whom the Grand-duke by numerous benefits had 
endeavored in vain to make forget Ms father's merited execution. 
[Here again Galluzzi gives a trait that does not agree with his picture 
of Francesco. See under 1578.] The Cardinal at Eome learning of the 
plot informed Francesco of it [which Galluzzi considers generous, al- 
though, as the conspiracy was directed in the name of the ancient 
liberty against the whole reigning family, he was to have been one of 
the victims,] and advised the arrest of Pucci. About twenty youths 
in all were complicated, and the confiscations amounted to 30,000 
ducats. This severity and the fiscal exactions irritated the people 
and rendered hostile all the connections of the young nobles. Granduc. 
ii. 248. 

Masnade [bands of predatory soldiers, brigands or assassins ac- 
cording to circumstances, and serving as instruments both of rapine 
and revenge] increased fearfully ; the nobles having them in pay for 
their feuds and vengeance. Ih. 2G5. — Sismondi writes in relation to 
the extent of brigandage after 1563 (the year of Bianca's arrival in 
Florence) : Alfonso Piccolomiui, Duke of Monte Marciano, and Marco 
Sciarra, in Komagna, the Abbruzzi, and the Campagna of Eome, com- 
manded several thousands of men. JRepub. Ital. t. 10, p. 218 sq. 

The administration of the criminal laws frightened the innocent 

1576. as much as the guilty, and flattered the powerful with hopes of 
easily elucing them. " Quindi e che le risse, le prepotenze e gli 



378 BIxiNCA CAPELLO 



assassinamenti crcbbero a dismisura." In eighteen months from 
the death of Cosmo, tliere were counted in Florence alone one hun- 
dred and eighty cases of deaths and wounds by assault. Granduc. ii. 
2G5. 

Don Pietro de' Medici profligate and depraved. His beautiful wife 
Eleonora di Toledo imitated him. Her brother refused to listen to his 
complaints, and prevented their reaching Don Garzia her father. The 
Spanish chivalry put the husband up to avenge his dishonor, and he 
murdered her by night, July 11, with repeated blows of his poniard, at 
Caffagiolo, an ancient villa of the Medici {ib. 2G7.) Her death at- 
tributed to disease of the heart. 

Isabella, both beautiful and accomplished. Favored the amours of 
her brother with Bianca. Duke, her husband, especially jealous of his 
own kinsman Troilo Orsini ; strangles her with a cord at his villa of 
Correto on the morning of the 16th July. Court informed that she 
fell dead in the arms of her attendants while washing licr head {ih. 
269.) — Botta tells us that Troilo himself killed with his own hand the 
Grand-duko's page, bet\\een whom and this licentious princess there 
was a mutual passion. The picture given by this last modern his- 
torian, of the two royal ladies, D. Pietro and, united with the godly 
group, Duke Cosmo, is done with that relish with which he seems to 
paint extreme depravity in high places, sparing no feature, and height- 
ening without mercy the ugliness of all. Let me make a copy of the ori- 
ginal, as certain touches will not bear transferring to an English panel. 
^'•Eleonora . . '-giovanegraziosaedimaravigiiosabellezza. Corsero 
romori, e ne fu anclie fatto fede dalle cronache contemporanee, che 
Cosimo, invaghito di tanta bellezza, con scellerato amore si fosse con 
esso lei mescolato, per modo che gravida di se alle nozze del figlluolo 
la mandasse. D. Pietro poi oltraggiava i due sessi, 1' altro abbandonando 
e del proprio abusando.(2) Infame tresche erano queste, ne anco 

(2) Cosmo, who affected a regard for morality and for religion, or betLer Lad a 
politic respect for both, enacted laws of great severity against this revolting vice 
and against the sin of blasphemy. (It is Segni who classes them thus together in 



APPENDIX II. 379 



celate : il pubblico le sapeva, s' aggiungeva lo scaudalo al misfatto. 
Pietro frequentava i bei giovani ; Eleonora presto 1' orrecliio a chi la 
vaglieggiava." Slor. 0? Ital. Libr. 14°. (Milauo, in 12<^, 1843. t. iii. 
p. 166.) "Delizia della Corte e quasi fiore di Firenze per gioventu, 
bellezza, grazia, ornamento di poesia, perizia di musica, moltiplicita 
di favelle era donna Isabella de' Medici, figiiuola del Duca Cosimo. 
Ma tali sorti di fiori nella Medicea Corte si contaminavano e si lasciavano 
•contaminare." [The reader will please recall wiiat I observed of 
Bianca, surrounded by and inhaling such an atmosphere of moral cor- 
ruption. But in the instance of Isabella the " flower'- shriveled and 
blackened by no outward influence of the elements ; it had de.struction 
at its core. The e^^ of the caterpillar was deposited before the germ 
had begun to develop itself on the parent plant. It was the pernicious 
•blood of the Medici in Cosmo, and haply, on the mother's side, of the 
Toledo. (3) Observe what follows.] "Porto la fama che Cosimo 

the snme sentence.) But the law fell into disuse from the indifference of the 
magistrates, — perhaps from their knowledge to what degree this unmentionable 
bestiality prevailed among the highest order. Pandolfo Pucci was one of those 
who thus sinned against nature, and did it without any particular concealment 
{'■'^ (t/dceiafamenie.'^) It seems he knew what to calculate upon. Through the 
influence of his brother Ruberto, lately made Cardinal by Paul III., he was par- 
doned. But Giov. Bandini, for the same classical atrocity, was kept in a dungeon 
at the bottom of a tower for nineteen years, — rather, as Segni thinks and well, for 
his abusive words of the Duchess Madama Lponora than for the crime. Sior, 
Mor. ed. cit. ii. 272. 

(3) Cosmo, who, according to honest Segni, was censurable for the same sub- 
iservience to the Emperor(a) that Galluzzi accuses Francesco of towards the King 

(a) " Non faccva altro che intratcnersi per amico e per buon suddito (per parlar meglio) dell' Imperadore." 
,(ii. 255.) The language, in its sense, not tone, is forcible. — So also in the matter of his nuptials, this pattern 
Cosmo, — who, by the by, Segni, who must have been aware of the niceties and morality recounted in an after 
age by Botta, tells us " nel Tiver sao era molto onesto," {ib. 270,) — celebrated them with great magnificence, 
although a famine was prevailing at the time, occasioned chiefly by his own avarice, — "cagionata dal tem- 
porale, e molto piu dair aver 1' anno innanzi il Duca dato la Iratta a'grani, de' quali cavb scudi 50,000, e 
Becco tutti i granai del dominio." (Ib. 215, sq.) Thus in hoth these instances, of a degrading policy and an 
extravagance of pomp which mocked the necessities of his people, and insulted their sufferings, the great 
Cosmo set the example which his son and successor is reproached for having followed. That this was »o does 
•not excuse the latter, but it makes the censure of the historians in his precisely parallel case if not malevolent, 
yet altogether partial. And it is for this reason that I have cited these instances of selfish and ignoble error 



380 BIAXCA CArELLO 



stesso Iroppo piii V amasse clie a padre si conveniva." {Id. 167.) 
Who has not heard the story of the artist, who from his scaffolding 

beheld The Cardinal's words of soliloquy in Act IV. So. 4 are 

gloss enough in English. 

For thirteen years the Duke had been enamored of Bianca, with a 
passion growing every day more ardent. Nothing too good for her : 
palaces, delightful gardens, etc., etc. —his very brothers paying her 
court — sole dispenser of favors. A Jewish woman said to assist her 
in incantations and the composition of philters to increase the Duke's 
passion. But let me c^uote, as I wish to examine this point in full. 
After indulging in the expression " orgogliosa impudenza della Cap- 
pello" {haughty impudence of the CaiJello.,) —to which on the suc- 
ceeding page he adds hlach perfidy ("nera perfidia,") Galluzzi pro- 
ceeds in this fashion: "La Bianca, cui troppo premeva sempre piii 
accenderlo e mantenerlo costante, non risparmiava veruno di quelli 
artiflzi che son comuni alle femmiiie del suo carattere., senz-a omettere 
1' uso dei filtri, del prestigi, e di tutto cio che la credulita donnesca(4) 
ha saputo imaginare d' inganni in tal genere ; una donna Giudea era 
la fedele ministra di questi incantesimi, e il pubblico clie imaginava i 

of Spain, espoused at his suggestion, instead of the .\rchduchess he aspired to,. 
Leonora di Toledo, sister of that very Viceroy of Naples whose atrocious in- 
humanity is cited in note (1). She brought him a son or a daughter every year. 
As D. Pietro married the daughter of D. Garzia, who was brother to tliis lady, it 
follows that in the person of his wife he poniarded also his cousin-german. 

(4) The E. of Bothwell had certainly nothing icomanish in his composition, 
though much that was devilish, yet we find him on his death-bed making a confes- 
sion of having used "witchcraft" {prestigi) and "sweet-water" {filtri) to excite 
the Queen's affections. See Miss Strickland's letters of Mary Q. of Scots, etc. 
Vol. III. I have been unable to procure a copy, and cite from a newspaper re- 
view of 1S43. Mary was the contemporary of Bianca. The credtiUiy we might 
say was that of the age, did we not know what is going on in our own skeptical 
century, and in our matter-of-fact country, not to speak of France, where, succeed- 
ing to the spiritualism of Home, a common soldier of Jewish origin performs the 
miracles on sick and lame and blind attributed to Christ. 



APPENDIX II. 381 



piu sti'avaganti niezzi per eseguiiii concepira semprepm del orroreper il 
di lei perversa caratterey (16. 271.) Now let us hear what Botta 
says : " Bianca Capello, uata al monclo per mostrare la potenza degll 
attrativi femmmiU [observe throughout the parts I have itaUcized], 
e la laidezza di ua uomo a cui era da Die comandato non solo di 
governare, [I cannot see that Heaven had anything to do with it ; the 
government of the Medici was, as Botta himself has shown, an ab- 
solute usurpation founded in perfidy and corruption, and the family 
that administered it, from Alessandro down, were mostly worthless as 
princes and despicable or detestable as men,] ma di ediflcare un 
popolo atto ad ogni gentil creanza, [Yarchi, who knew them better, 
being of them, in the reign of Cosmo, has ascribed to the Florentines 
no such aptitude,] fuggiva nel 15G3, ec. Bella e spiritosa e dl grazie 
moUiformi dotata (imperciocche o die sclierzasse^ o sopra se stesse, o 
il leggiadro volto con semhianza dl mestlzia annuvolasse, sempre ris- 
plendeva in lei un cotal lume dl avvenenza lusingldejn^ dl vaghezza 
gliiotta, Che V uom raplva) aveva, ec." {uU cit. p. 1G9.) Yet after this 
description of a beauty and grace that must have been all but irresist- 
ible and that he himself affirms transported everybody^ — 2i description 
which, if we may judge by one trait, the " vaghezza ghiotta" {charms 
that kindled appetite), easily discernible in her portraits, (r. App. III.), 
is a faithful, though a lovely picture, — he pretends to say she had re- 
course to philters and to incantations to increase the passion of a man 
not yet forty ! However, of that presentl.v. — The historian, with his 
usually sarcastic and often terrible pen, tells us that their loves were 
shamelessly open. ''Xon sentivano vergogua nell' amore : in fronte 
del popolo con modi scoperti il Principe il confessava, impudicizia ed 
impudenza regnavano. (5 ) Cosimo Tammoniva " • a precious mon- 

(5) I ask again, if their loves were so impudently sLamele.'s, how came it that, 
after the death of Joanna, Bianca was admitted to the palace under the plea of 
guardianship for the young princesses, and why the secret marriage ? These facts 
cannot be reconciled, as before observed (p. 360,) with open impudicity.(a)— But 

(a) In that place, it is true, I expressed more than a doubt of my heroine's chastity in her widowhood. It 
seemed to me at the time incredible, that even the Cardinal in his " declaratory act " should have falsified 



382 BIANCA CAPELLO 



itor, even were there no Camilla ! {v. Botta's own words on p. 378), 

• "la principessa sposa piangeva" that is but supposition, a 

fancy family-picture, though painted with an eye to nature(6), " e 

suppose they can ; suppose the Prhice did indeed unveil his passion to the 
public gaze ; when have princes done otherwise, in evcny land, and to our very 
day? In moral, or at least morality-boasting, England, the children of law- 
less royal love, whether gotten on a duchess or an actress, are ennobled, and the 
bend sinister or I)ato?i coupe of the Earl or Duke stands not in the way of lawful 
marshaling by pale or quarter with the proudest escutcheons. But in Italy ! and 
at that time! when half the petty thrones were filled by bastards, and where, 
not forty years before, the child of three fathers, bejrotten on a wanton household- 
drudge, was the first acknowledged sovereign of the '■Illustrissima Casa"l 
GaUmatiafi ! 

(6) Not because the princess-spouse bewept his infidelity, for she knew that 
offence was common with all princes, but because she felt it a reproach to her 
■own ill-favored vi^sage, its pallor, and her dwarfish form. The whole picture, in- 
cluding the monitions of the saintly Cosmo, is drawn from models of the imagin- 
ation, and is what the reader has been familiar with in the nursery : 

" In vain his father's kind .idvice, 
In vain his mother's care," etc, 

I have no idea of apologizing for incontinence, much less adultery ; bat I do m;iintain 
that had Francesco been guilty of nothing worse than seeking solace with the 
widow Bonaventuri, he would be judged at least as leniently' as his contemporary 
^nd posthumous son-in-law, that darling of all true hearts, the great Henry IV. of 
France, who, but for his Minister, would have committed the stme folly as Fran- 
cesco (if in Francesco it was a folly to marry Bianca), and who, had he not had 
that Minister, but a false and aspiring brother to shape for men his reputation, 
might have come down to us in more questionable form, his vices all exaggerated, 
and his frank, generous and valiant heart shrunken under their swollen heap to a 
pitiful littleness. As it was, it is observable that the most mischievous aspersion 
of his character came from the pen of his blood-relation tlie Princess of Conti.(a) 

the date as weil as other particulars of D. Antonio's birth. But when I consider what appears to have been 
done in the account of the Duke and Bianca's illness, I see no good reason why, in the very face of the peoplei 
that arch-maligner should not misrepresent the point of time in one case as wall as in the other. See (24); 
also subnote to (6). 

(a) The handsome and talented Louisa-Margaret of Lorraine (granddaughter of that magnanimous and 
valiant captain, Francis of Lorraine, Duke of Guise) in her Uistoirc dcs Amcurs du grand Alcandre, which 



APPENDIX II. 383 



gli dava esempio d' ogni virtu" ^Yhat were tiicy ? She could not 

'but of cliastity, or she were as foul as her sister-in-law, who was nei- 
ther pallid, nor diminutive, nor ill-favored, to render chastity easy, 

" ma nulla giovava, perche la Bianca, col suo volto, non so se mi dehha 
dire angelico o diaholico, era piu forte del padre, della moglie, e di 
quanto 11 mondo pensasse o dicesse." {ib. 170, sq.) All of which is 
merely rhetorical. And now for the absurd story of the philters, and 

told thus absurdly : " Oltre le grazie della persona And what were 

these physical attractions^ besides which, etc. ? Beautiful and spiritual 
'and endowed idth manifold graces (these are his own words, above 
quoted,) — since, ichether sJie was mirthful or grave, or clouded her 
elegant and charming visage with a semblance of sadness, there always 
shone out in her such a light of seductive attractions, of appctiUebeautu, 

And who does not know what that very Minister, that virtuous Sully, whose friend- 
ship as well as administration honored both reciprocally, who does not know what 
lie has told of the effect of Henry's amours, leading him, as they do every man, 
the honest and the good not excepted, into subterfuge and even falsehood? Un- 
happily for Francis-Mary, he had not what the historian of the Medicean duchy 
assigns him, every quality that is desirable in a sorereign. Had he had, and 
been gracious and heiievolent to his subjects, he might have said at least what 
Henry said, who said most things wittily and well : " I am myself the best assur- 
ance for my people. My predecessor feared you and loved j^ou not ; but I love 
you, and 1 have no fear of you.''' And in that case History would have looked, 
though sorrowfully, yet gently on his vices of habit and temperament, over- 
shadowed as they were by those of Henry, both an inveterate gamester and, to the 
very last, incorrigible — I cannot say libertine ; it is not a word that suits a 
man like him, who probably fyund women lewJ, not made them so ; but — to 
his latest day intemperate woman-lover. 

bears the same satirical relation to the Court of Henry IV. as Bussi's Histoire amoureuse to the not less 
licentious one of Louis XIV. She too in h^r widowhood made, like Bianca, what the French call a marriage 
of conscience with one of her lovers, the famous Marshal Bassompierra : a fact worth noticing as tending to 
confirm by similitude of instance what, notwithstanding the brand of illegitimacy put upon Don Antonio, was 
perhaps the true state of things between the G. Duke and Bianca. Bianca was too scrupulous, or too proud, 
or too artful, whichever you will, to submit to his embraces except after a secret ceremony which satisfied 
the conscience. Unless it was performed from a moral and religious motive, or to cover her good name, I 
cannot see what was the use of sach a rite. The public espousals could not in decency take place two months 
after the death of Joanna, but the secret nuptials did. 



384 BIAJSrCA CAPELLO 



as ravished the heholder ^'Oltre le grazie clella persona, iisava 

Bianca, per fomentare la passione del Grancluca, i filtrl, iprestigi edil 
ministerio di una Giudea, cui 11 mondo credeva esperta d' incantesimi^ 
ed era veramente d' ingauni. La fattuchiera Isorceressl era Bianca^. 
non la Giudea." (i&. 171.) Thus, either from Galluzzi (for he uses 
the same expressions), or directly from those Cardinalized archives 
which awakened no suspicion with the former, we have Botta repeat- 
ing with emphasis this puerile storj^ without at all being conscious 
that in ascribing to Bianca such marvelous beauty and such entranc- 
ing manners, he makes it nearly impossible, whatever her self-delusion 
as to the actuality of sorcery, that she could have resorted to its falla- 
cious assistance. What would be the object ? If she already held the 
Duke a slave to the double enchantment of her person and her mind,. 
— and Galluzzi tells lis that his passion was continually increasing, — 
where was the need of anything beyond ("oltre") ? And i^hllkrs r 
for whom ? The Duke on the day of his death was but forty-seven 
years of age, or forty-nine, computing after Segni(7) ; and Botta is- 

(7) "Who tells us Francesco was nine years old when sent to meet at Genoa the 
Emperor's son Don Philip (afterwards Philip II. of Spain). And this was in the 
year 1547. — St. Fior. t. ii. p. 379. 

It has not escaped me, that the historians may mean that Bianca plied these arts 
to keep the Duke from inconstancy. Indeed Galluzzi says as much {mp. 380), and 
Muratori tells us, after a contemporary, that in the popular rumor which ascribed 
the poisoning to Bianca, she was thought to have been urged by jealousy, being " a 
woman of proud spirit." See infra 27. The Duke was then no longer under her 
influence. Where then was his infotuation, or what was become of Bianca's 
power ? If they still existed, then she had no need of drugs and magic charms ; 
if they did not, and he became her slave to the degree which we shall shortly see 
asserted, then his chains were forged by magic, and the eyes of the angelia 
visage "'rained influence " by the drugs! 

In fact, nothing can be more contradictory than the accounts of both historians. 
Galluzzi, besides his prejudice, is blinded by the Cardinal Grand-duke's Archives ; 
Botta is guided by that satiric spirit and prejudgment which see evil rather than 
good and find a delight in making the picture more effective by its shadows, although 



APPENDIX II. 385 



writing of a period eleven years earlier ( 157G). He was consequently 
at that time but thirty-six or at most but thirty-eight years old ; and 
if Bianca's sorcery was so notorious as to fill the city with horror, the 
Duke must have known of it. Are we to suppose then, that in the full 
vigor of his best manhood he suffered such practices ? If he had oc- 
casion for them, then his passion could not have gone on increasing ; 
for love the least sensual, as the most of it is wholly so, diminishes 
under such circumstances, if it does not become at once extinct. As- 
for Bianca herself, we are told it was in 15G3 that she fled from Venice. 
Supposing she was then eighteen, — though I would rather believe she 
was two or even three years younger, for women at eighteen are not. 
so easily led astray by a first passion as when its stimulus is still a new 
and almost uncontrollable sensation, — supposing her to be eighteen at 
that period, she was then in 157G but thirty-one. Where then, I re- 
peat, was the use of sorcery and love-potions to urge a man deeply 
enamored, himself in the flower of his manhood, to greater passion for 
a woman who could not have lost a beauty that was at any time re- 
puted marvelous, and who is said to have had such ravishing grace 
of manner and so seductive sweetness of look, that, whatever the 
mood she might be in, or might assume, she transported every heart? 
But, not to carry mere argument too far on a point which so little 
deserves it, let us adduce the force of a parallel example. About a 
centui-y and a half before this time, Yalentina of Milan, Duchess of 
Orleans, a v/oman like Bianca beautiful and intellectual, was said to 
owe her influence over her brother-in-law, the unhappy Charles VI., 
to sorcery. She was even obliged to forsake the Court for some time 
to escape the insults of the populace, who probably were stimulated 
by the King's uncles and their wives, as in the case of Bianca they 

at the expense too often of real nature and the observation of historic truth. It is 
to be observed, that it was after all the villany ascribed to her by both these 
waters, that they chronicle the secret marriage and the subsequent grand espousals 
with the coronation, both of which acts are the strongest evidence tliat the 
Grand duke's passion had not abated. 

11 



386 BIANCA CAPELLO 



were by the artifices of tlie Duke's brother. Cahimny did not stop 
here, and to want of chastity in favor of the insane king added even 
the report of her poisoning him for the benefit of her husband !(8) 
But we are in the 19th centui-y, three hundi^ed years since Bianca 
lived and loved, and was adored— although we should hardly suppose 
it from the number of fortune-tellers wlio under various styles adver- 
tise the black art in the journals, — we are in an era of very general 
instruction and greatly increased freedom from superstition, yet what 
€omes to us, even now while I write, from the land where the beau- 
tiful Venetian lived and was adored and finally suffered ? The spread 
of cholera is attributed to the malignity of evil-disposed persons, and 
an unfortunate woman in Naples who professed to be of the trade of 
Bianca's Jewess is actually cut into pieces as having been instrumental 
in its propagation. See then the people of Florence wondering at the 
extent of Bianca's influence, precisely as in that earlier age the people 
of Paris did at the elegant Visconti's, and in their Wind amazement 
prompted to an easy explanation after their own mode of thinking by 
the Cardinal's agents, and you have the story. (0) The Jewess may 
have been a sorceress like her ancient compatriot, but was probably 
•some female-nostrum vender, or woman's-doctor, possessed of (or so 

(S) It was the handsome, dissipated, and ambitious Louis of France, her husband, 
•u-hose actual dabbling witli the fallacious art gave a color of truth-lilceness to 
these scandals. Martin calls him " adept.e temeraire des arts damnahle^ de la 
magie.*' Hist, de France. (Paris, in 8°, 1S44) t. vi. p. 29S. See too ih. p. 269. 
And Henry lY. of England, in the last of his 'despatches, did not hesitate to ac- 
cuse-him, not her, of causing the malady of Charles Yl. by sorceries et diahleries. 
Id.i^.SO\. 

(9) If the people Avere HV.ed with horror at Hianca's supposed practicos, what 
protected her from their fury any more than Valentina ? Tlje fanaticism of a mob is 
the hideous growth of no peculiar age or country. The deformed and bloodthirsty 
giant was the same in the 16th as in the 14th century, and is the same in the 19th 
that he was in the 14th. Lola Montes was hooted and pelted in Munich, and so 
was her royal lover, who was neither stupid nor criiel, nor a Medici ; yet nobody 
ascribed his infatuation to anything supernatural. 



APPENDIX II. 387 



clairaiug) secrets of embellishmeut and rejuvenation, a priestess of 
the thaumaturgy of the toilet ; but the stories set afloat are like, both 
in themselves and in their origin, those circulated, more than a hun- 
dred and fifty years before, against the fair and Intellectual grand- 
mother of Louis XII. ( 10) In fine, if Bianca was the victim of the seLf- 
delusion ascribed to her, her practices under it were to increase or 
secure the aflections of her husband, of infidelity to whom there is not 
breathed against her even a suspicion. It is rather remarkable that 
while uuwilhng to ascribe the Grand-duke's excessive passion for 
Bianca to anything but her nefarious arts (how many would be glad 
to know them !) there is no thought of attacking Camilla Martelli for 
a like infatuation on the part of Cosmo, — Cosmo, the strong-minded, 

(10) In Bianca's day, the belief in magic was still prevalent even among the 
educated. Not to cite again the creduUty of Botliwell (who was however little 
more than a rude soldier), that popinjay of a Icing, yet gallant cavalier, half woman, 
half man, Henry III. of France, ashamed of his fantastical grief for Mary of Cleves, 
Princess of Conde, ascribed its excesses to enchantment. This was about the very 
period now in question, while, twenty-two years earlier, books on astronomy and 
geometry had actually been condemned in England as treatises of magic, notwith- 
standing the advances made there as elsewhere in both those sciences. 

In the intervening age between Yalentina and Bianca, or about a century before 
the latter's empoisonment, we find the usurper Eichard laying his withered arm 
to the witchcraft of unhappy Shore. And less than a score of years after the 
latter, or in the first decade of the 17th century, Mary Stuart's son, James I. of 
England, a man something more than educated, was a good believer in witches; 
while in France Eleonora Galigai, the foster-sister and favorite of Mary of Medici 
(Francesco's daughter), was put to death, although in reality for her insolent pre- 
sumption and the venal abuse of her influence, yet on the charge of practising sor- 
cerj'.(a) And this was about the time when Galileo stood up in the Inquisition, 
before the slaves of ignorance and the children of superstition, to defend by sub- 
terfuge, or by fables which he believed not, the conceptions of his God-inspired 
mind. 



(a) It is a coincidence that the chief point in the accusation against her was that she consorted with a 
JeviHh doctor, familiar with the art. 



388 BIANCA CAPELLO 

politic, and resolute,— who was so mastered by his love that even his 
physicians could not keep him from that enchantress. (Gall. ii. 176.) 
We now come to the '■'■nera perfidia.'''' The Duke was anxious to 
have male children, and rather than not have any was contented they 
should be illegitimate. Bianca set to work to gratify him ; but her 
body being rendered unfruitful by sickness and dissipation (''disor- 
dini ") she contrived this scheme. Three women of the vilest class 
(Gall.) or of vulgar standing (Botta), about to be coulined, were en- 
gaged to part with their offspring. One of them only (providentially 
— in two respects) brought forth a male. This was carried, in a lute, 
to the bedchamber where lay the Duchess affecting, like our Mrs. 
Cunningham, a mother's throes. (The reader has heard of a musical in- 
strument before as a vehicle of supposititious children to royal houses. ) 
As the Duke was perpetually with Bianca we are told, up to the last 
moment, when on some pretext she sent him off, we are left to wonder 
by what subtilty of contrivance and by what good fortune she could 
deceive him as to her situation. I need not explain my meaning. 
Every man will comprehend it, M^thout being -read in gestation. Thus 
much however. A woman may feign pregnancy to strangers, but not 
to her husband. The "outward and visible signs" are such, that un- 
less he were deprived of his eyes or had his arms amputated, the 
imposition would be impossible. Besides, the Duke in his ecstacy of 
expectation would have been the last man not to satisfy himself, in the 
innocent way that all curious expectant fathers do. I dare say he did a 
hundred times. (Mensihus graviditatisjamferme exactis, superimposita 
prwgnantis abdomini manu^ motiuncida^ quasi foetus tantillmn suh- 
sidtantis, sensibilis creberrime fiet.) But let us suppose a miracle, and 
that the Duke could through six months be kept away from any con- 
tact with the woman he adored. Was the Cardinal too deceived ? We 
shall see presently how he acted upon the Duke's death. Botta how- 
ever finds nothing wonderful in the transaction ; for, according to 
liim, Bianca had the effrontery to tell the Duke himself of these false 
pretensions and that the little Antonio was but the son of a common 
man and woman of llie counti-y ! And the Duke, — it was all one.y 



APPENDIX II. 389 



says that historian, /or the stupid and cruel- Medici ( . . fii tuttuno per 
lo stiipido e crudele Medici,") — was perfectly satisfied ! He might 
well add, in this belief, "Se Francesco fosse piii vile, o Bianca piu 
furba, io nol saprei." (r. cit. p. 172). Now this stupid Medici (the 
epithet of cruel was out of place in the present matter) is pronounced 
by Galluzzi, in very positive language, to have been the most accom- 
plisUed as icell as talented monarch of h is time / ( 11 ) Let me make then 

(11) Cs. infra (20.) — It will there be also found, that Sisraondi, like Botta, de- 
prives him of all talent as well as virtue. Where does the truth lie? What be- 
comes of his known patronage of the arts ? of science ? of letters ? Speaking of 
his taste and magnificence in the adornment of Florence, Galluzzi says : " II gusto 
particolare de erigere nuove fabbriche e rlparare e ingrandire le vecchie si distinse- 
nel G. Duca Fi-ancesco superiormente alle altre sue inclinazloni." ii. 4T3 .... 
Consequently^ he continues, the fine arts flourished loith no less splendor than 
in ti.6 reign of Cosmo ^ and elegance and good taste spread themselces ever if 
day more and more among private citizens, ib. 474. In the text I have- 
alluded to the famous Benvenuto Cellini. Galluzzi particularizes, in architecture, 
Ammanato and Buontalenti, in painting Allori and Poccetti (he might have 
mentioned others), and Giovanni Bologna in sculpture. The Grand-duke's dis- 
position for these arts he chronicles as "slngolare." 475. . . "Egli stesso, come 
intelligentissimo delle medesime, sovente ne ragionava con gli artefici e con i 
gentiluomini della sua Corte ad oggetto d'' inspirare nel puhblico il gusto di 
favorirle e V inclinazione di professarle.'''' {ih.) To him was owing the increase 
of the reputation and consequent growth of the Florentine Academy, out of which 
arose by separation, as in some organic creatures the offspring from the parent, in 
15S2 the Crusca. "Alio spulto nazionale ormai indirizzato da Cosimo alia letter- 
atura e alii studi siaggiungeva l' inclikaziose particolare del G. Dlca Fran- 
cesco PER LE letters e PEE I DOTTi. lAJce Jiis father^ he lotted the domestia 
and familiar conversation of the most esteemed [among the learned — " i dotti "}, 
and took pleasure in maintaining ^cith the absent a confidential correspond- 
ence; and therefore he failed not to honor, succor, and protect them in their 
occasions" . . . 477 sq. The Grand-duTce was 'versed in I^attiral History, 
and among its branches applied himself with especial diligence to 3Iiner~ 
alogy and to Metallurgy. 478. So with Botany. — He appreciated and favorecJ 
writers of history. The two Universities of Tuscany flourished under him despite 



390 BIAXCA CAPELLO 

this remark. A man may be wise, aucl learnecl, and have even knowl- 
•edge of tlie world at large and of the female sex in particular, and 
yet become the slave of passion. Bill, " in vain," as we are told, 
" the net is spread in the sight of any bird " ; and he would have 
needed to be more than stupid, an idiot, a human beast, to give sane- 
lion to a trick which, apart from its disgusting wickedness, left still 
the grand desire of his heart unsatisfied ; for Francis wanted not an 
adopted child, the product, although male, of unknown parents, but 
a son of his own, and born to him by the woman he loved. And I 
may say it would have been imi)0ssihle, had Bianca revealed the truth, 
that he would have sought to buy for this vulgar bantling a principal- 
ity in Naples. Yet that he did this we are told by Botta, and Galluzzi 
goes still further. Philip of Spain had thoughts of conferring Siena 
on the strumpets-brood. Philip of Spain was not a fool, if history can 
be tortured into satire to make Francesco one. "What then could Jjave 
perverted his judgment, or seduced his not too easy faith (at least in 
matters not religious) ? Was there then any doubt as to the illegiti- 
macy of Don Antonio ? May he not have been born after the secret 
marriage of the Duke, and the Archives have been made to tell another 
story ? The Cardinal's generosity was, to say the least, suspicious. 
See (24). It was in allusion to this rumor of Philip's intention that 
there occurred at first, in the scene between the Cardinal and Don 
Pietro {Act V. Sc. III.), this passage : 

More, thou art wrong'd in the present: our sire's wealth 
Must make the nest warm for the cuckoo's brood. 

the Inquisition, and, what deserves commendation, he himself conferred^ from his 
men knoicleclge of pei'soiis and cf the rcqu'n-emenU of science, the jprofessor- 
■sJtips. When asked in 1531 by a monk {Fj-afe) for the Chair of Philosophj' in 
Siena, he wrote back with his own hand that he did not icant monks i7i such 
'lectures (" Frati in tal lezione.'") ii. ad fin. 

How with such evidence before him, and by himself recorded, Galluzzi could so 
far forget his own portraiture of this enlightened Prince as to libel his entire 
reign, can be explained only by a want of that philosophy which with benevolence 
is the joint parent of charity. 



APPENDIX IT. 391 



IIow stands tJits Jesehers bastard son Antonio ? 

Held by the people seco.id to the throne, 

WitJi sixty tlioKsand dacatu annual income. 

Fiefs, palaces, villas. A rt thou foucu'J ? Why so ; 

''Twas icell reminded. Hear then thi.^. From Spain 

Ilearii Xing Philip ici/'l bestoic Siena 

071 this same brat, whoflaunt.'i ivith borroufd right 

Our boasted name. 

Don P. That is not true. 

Card. Ask else 
Thy friend Dovara. Wilt thou not aicalce ? 

I thoiiglit tlio CardiuaFs language would be ascribed, as I meant it, to 
bis evil disposition and unprincipled designs. It was the band of an 
unscrnpnlous enemy painting the object of his hatred with the dark- 
est colors furnished by malevolence to his imagination. The passage 
however had to be sacriflccd, because the words of Bianca in the final 
Scene, 

" I bear within me what might blast thy hopes, 
Could I but live so long to give it life," 

would have given verity to the imputation that this D. Antonio was 
born before her marriage with the Duke. But with these facts, taken 
from Galluzzi himself, of the extraordinary honor in which this boy 
was held, and of the wealth that was heaped on him, and which it will 
be seen the Cardinal Grand-duke did not take away, and of the prin- 
cipality designed for him by Philip, is it possible to suppose, that, let 
alone a positive illegitimacy, any such abominable transaction had 
taken place as that wherewith, through the malignancy and pohcy 
of Bianca's arch-enemy, the records have furnished Galluzzi and the 
inadequately perspicacious historians who with credulity or careless- 
ness have adopted his views ?(12) 

(12) And it is not impossible that history, whose record is as often made up of 
falsehoods as of truths, if not oftener, has lent undesignedly its dangerous distor- 
tion, to what was already counterfeit, by copying without consideration the studied 
Bcandals of the times. "What has our war of the Rebellion taught us? If, two 



392 BIAXCA CAPELLO 



But let us follow the amazing story further. Bianea, who had con- 
fessed her shameless duplicity and to the great content of the stupid 
Duke, yet wants to get rid of her accomplices in a secret action that 
was no longer secret and whose results were satisfactory on all sides, 
but the CardinaFs. So she has two of them secretly put to death and 
their assistants removed by exile. But the chief person, a Bolognese 
governess, is retained. By and by, she wishes to get rid of her also. 
So she sends her back to Bologna •, and, on the way, soldiers from 
Florence set upon her, and she is mortally wounded. Her statement, 
taken juridically, was to the effect that site recognized the assassins 
as Florentine soldiers and cui-iliroats of Bianea .'(13) This from the 
lips of a dismissed servant — a woman too ! and a woman utterly un- 
principled by her own confession, if, as she pretended, she had been 
employed by Bianea to superintend the execution of her frauds. And 
the precious document (observe !) is sent, not to Francis, but to the 
Cardinal Ferdinand at Rome ! How it got into the Archives and re- 
mained there, was best known doubtless to the personage in whose 
behoof it was concocted, — that is, if it was more than the revengeful 
malice of an unworthy servant, sent away in disgrace. Certainly, it 
w^as a roundabout way for Bianea to take with this one woman, Bianea 
the " artful " as well as '^spiritual," when she had so noiselessly rid 
herself of all the rest.(U) In what court of the United States, or of 

hundred years hence, some historian should have had nothing to copy from but 
the atrocious calumnies of Jefferson Davis and his so-called Ministers, and should 
have found confirraation of the same in the congenial malice of most of the news- 
papers of Great Britain and of France, Avhat would be the record of the Union 
Government ? 

(13) . . '■ di aver conosc!uto che il suo feritore con altri C07npagni era.no sol- 
dati Fiorentini e sicarj delta Bianea." Gall. ii. 273. — For what other purpose 
did her lady use them? The Governess did not say. She must have been her- 
self the supervisor of more iniquities than child-coinage, to be familiar with the 
faces of the assassin-servants. And that simpleton Bianea, not to employ new 
ones! 

(14) It is not to be at all supposed that a woman of the Governess's position, if 



APPENDIX II. 393 



Great Britain, is it, tliat sucli testimony would be talven as proof suffl 
clenfc of tlie guilt of the suspected party, and the latter too unheard " 
Yet it is precisely this ex-parte evidence that comes down to us as his- 

any other, would travel from Florence to Bologna, a journey then of several days, 
alone, much less^at a time when the whole confines were Bwarming as we have 
seen with freebooters. Even if without companions, she must have had a vettu- 
rale, or a guide and attendant if riding a mule. (a) At all events she could not 
have been alone ; for we are told she caused herself to be carried to Bologna, being 
•doubtless so far on her way thither as to be in the very midst of the masnadieri. 
What became then of her companion, escort, driver, or companions ? Supposing 
that her murder was intended, it is evident that when one man could do the job 
effectually it would hardly have been committed to more than two (for that there 
were several is implied in the very words of the narrative). Yet they left her 
merely wounded! She had power still to travel, and strength when she arrived to 
make her deposition ! This was bungling work. The truth of the story may be 
conjectured to be this: — The party of which the govei'ness made one (travelers in 
those days, as now, or lately, in Italy, if they had no partj'-, waited for their oppor- 
tunity to join one, but rarely if ever journeyed by themselves) were attacked by 
one of those bands of brigand-soldiers of which we have spoken as among the pests 
of Francesco's inefficient reign. Shots were fired to stop the party, or because 
of their resistance, as they probably traveled armed, and one of them — archihu- 
sata{h) — struck the woman. This Avas a fine opportunity for revenge on her part, 

(a) It was about this time that coaches began to be of anything like frequent use in traveling; but even 
then they were reserved for persons of rank, and the introduction of them was looked upon with displeasure 
fcy sovereign princes, some of these forbidding their general employment by edict. When Segni speaks of 
a " vetturale " {vetturino) in the story of the origin of Duke Alexander, the man's employers were princes. 
Henry of Navarre, when King of France, had but one carriage, and was obliged to do without, as he said on 
ere occasion, when the Queen was using it. 

(b) The arquebuse,* the first form of the musket, was a most uncertain, as clumsy and unwieldly weapon. 
Those that Philip II., of Spain, introduced into his army, required a forked rest to steady them ; and it is 
reasonable to suppose that these huge matchlocks, carrying a very heavy ball, were the kind adopted by 
Francesco. This adds to the absurdity of the idea of sending out assassins so armed. Poor Bianca ! they 
will not allow thee even sense in thy diablery ! Fancy a band of these arquebusiers making ready to shoot a 
:governess, who of course stands still to accommodate them, while, perched on eminences in the various long 
<listances of the future, three historians are gravely taking notes ! — We see too, that with such a weapon 
the probability is increased of the woman's having been wounded by accident, or by divergence of the ball. 

* Webster, in his derivation of this word, is in the clouds, where he. gropes too often for a composite ety- 
mon. It does not si.enift/ a hook-gun, nor for that matter a gun at all in the sense in which we use that word. 
The " arquebuse " was the direct successor of the crossbow or arbalist {balestra), and therefore popularly, 
lnevital>ly I miglit say, took the name of hollow or tube bow, *' Archibuso : cioe arco bugio, ovvero bucato. 
Area, perclie succeiK- alle balestre, e a' verretoni, e agli archi degli antichi." Ahdt. S.il.VI.M. Not. nel Tratt. 
7°. della Ling. Tosc. del Buommattei. ed. Mil. 1807. I. 268. 

11* 



394 BIANCA CAPELLO 



tory, unsustaiaecT eveu ou its own side by one solitary proof of actual 
guilt. And for this, alas, we read in life-dictionaries, some of them 
of great repute, of the artful and cruel Bianca ! — Herein she 
is more unfortunate than her unhappy contemporary Mary Stuart, 
whose imputed complicity in the assassination of her husband has 
more than one rebutting evidence coexistent with the cftarge itself ( 15 ) 

even if she were not put up to her yillanous aspersion by an agent of the Car- 
dinal's, who appears to have had emissaries and secret servants everywhere. 

(15) "What Hallam has said of a corresponding character of the 14th century, is 
worth observing. "The name of Joan of Xaples has suffered by the lax repeti- 
tion of calumnies. * * * xhe charge .of dissolute manners, so frequently made, 
is not warranted by anj^ specific proof or contemporary testimony."" State of 
Europe, etc. v. i. p. 46T (X. Y. in S°. 1S63.) 

Between Joanna and Mar^^ Stuart there is considerable resemblance, both in 
individual traits of person and of character and in certain conspicuous points of 
their histories. Each was suspected of conniving at the murder of her husband, 
and each confirmed the suspicion with most minds (but, I think, illogically,) by 
marrying the principal assassin.(^a) And between all three of the personages 
before us, the contemporaries Mary and Bianca and their quasi-prototype of two 
centuries before, there is the common point of a calumniated character. Yet 
Joanna whom Hallam thus partially exculpates was probably the most condemn- 
able of all three. Does not everybody know of his own experience private in- 
stances of detraction, and of misapplied accusation of crime or misconduct whereof 
the really guilty party escapes all censure ? History is but a repetition on a large 
scale and before the world of what transpires in the narrow and obscure circle of 
familiar intercourse. 

(a) This is not the place to argue such a point, but, writing for the future, I t.ike up space to assert that 
a w Oman, who had been privy to the murder of her husband, would not, — except she were of the very 
lowest order of humanity and of the most degrading associations, — have consented, of free will, to marry his 
assassin. 

Shakspeare, in a grotesquely unnatural scene, makes t,aiy Anne to be won by G!oster even while the 
usurper confesses to have killed her husband. This is natural enough in the result of his wooing, as com- 
mented on in his soliloquy, and only unnatural because of the exaggeration in brevity of time, and that lack 
of every consideration of propriety of language, manner, and sentiment which is a frequently occurring fault 
of that great poet. It is natural, I say, so far as the influence of such a suit on the mind of a vain, ambitious 
and weak woman ; but then Anne of Warwick had not been privy nor consenting to the murder of Edward. 
A case absolutely to the point; for the widow of Prince Edward did marry his chief murderer. And tha 
tyrant would have also had the Princess Elizabeth his niece, had the latter consented; for her mother was 
willing to betroth her to the butcher of her own three sons and of her husband. Yet none would be so mad 
as even to suspect Anne or the Queen Dowager of complicity in any of these assassinations. 



APPENDIX II. 395 



Remember, all these foul accusations are made, not against a vulgar, 
ignorant, and low-minded woman, but one who by the united testi- 
mony of her v/orst defamers was, like Mary herself, gifted with 
intellect as well as beauty,- and was moreover of a lofty spirit, 
although what to one writer is simply lofty becomes, in the vituper- 
ation of another, haughtiness and insolent presumption. Add to this, 
that Francis, whether "cruel" or not, was still a Medici, that he had 
suffered, if not sanctioned, the assassination of his own sister and of 
his brother's wife for their debauchery, and would hardly have en- 
dured, above all he a man not indifferent but passionately enaiyored, 
therefore liable to jealousy, and one who, according to Galluzzi, never 
forgave^ any departure from chastity by Bianca. As I have said, there 
is no suspicion breathed against her except what may be gathered 
from a vague and uncertain epithet or phrase. (16) Had there been 
cause, a single example, the historians would not have failed to 

(IG) All of Gallur^zi's terms and epithets show what a view he had taken of 
Bianca's character ; and Sismondi follows him without distrust (•' rartificeuse et 
debauchee ") ; while Botta, according to his manner, with intensity of accumula- 
tive sarcasm, treats us to this extraordinary satirical climax, on the occasion of 
Bianca's coronation : " Addi dodici d' ottobre la scappata di Yenezia, la doppia 
adultera d' un marito legittimo e di una moglie legittima(a), la stipendiatrice di" 
un' Ebrea ribalda, V ucciditrice di tre donne chiamate da lei a finto parto(b) fa 
portata trionfalmente con la corona in testa." t. c. 174. One would think that 
where Eleonora and Isabella lent examples of royal dissoluteness, where Con 
Pietro sinned against nature, and Francesco (as said) retailed the poisons of his 
father's private shop, Eianca might have been reserved for the middle tints of tho 
picture, nor made to bear its broadest sunlight and intensest shadow; but the 

(a) One instance is not proyej. For tlie other, nine hundred and ninety-nine -woraen out of a thousami 
would in the same circujistanccs have done as I suppose the widow of Bonaventuri may have done, and the 
thousandth vrould have thought she was doing no harm in committing adultery with the eyes. This, in any 
age and any country. And Botta, if he knew manliind as he ought to have known, must have been aware 
of this, call it weakness, or depravity, (and it is both). Why then launch into such special vituperation 
against this one calumniated head / Christ would have turned round on her accusers and written in the 
sand. 

(b) I need not repeat, where was the use of slaying them, if Bianca did not hesitate to reveal the plot I 
Botta here, in his love of verbal painting and epigrammatic force, forgets probability, if not ignores hisowu 
assertions. 



BIAXCA CAPELLO 



quote it, and we may rest assured that in lier relations as Grand-duchess 
she did nothing to lessen the devotion of her lord, a devotion which 
taking the archival record of his death as veritable (which I do not) 
was evidenced, even in the belief of his enemies, by his latest 
breath. Cons. y. 15S7. 

One word more. The account of Bianca's foisting a spurious off- 
spring on the Grand-duke is renewed, in the form of a suspicion, on 
every recuiTence of her pregnancy. The historians endeavor to jus- 
tify their aspersion by her supposed sterility, a supposition which ap- 
pears to rest on no reasonable foundation. Bianca, to have the grace 
that is ascribed to her by her calumniators, must have been perfectly 
well-made, and was therefore fitted by nature for reproduclion. She 
had born a daughter (Pellegrina) to her first husband. What ground 
was there for supposing that married to the Duke, a member of a pro- 
lific family, and who had had children by the feeble, stunted and pallid 
Joanna, she should suddenly lose fecundity ? v. under jj. 15S6, 1587. 
Galluzzi, we have seen, says she had become sterile through the use 
of medicines and by dissipation ; and Botta repeats, with an addition, — 
*' Per medecine, per disordini, per corrutela." These assertions must 
be, at the strongest, conjectural ; but what do they mean ? There is, 
I repeat, no one charge, no suggestion even of incontinence on her 
part, not a word said of intemperance : and merely high-living would 
not produce sterility, nor would obesity, unless it were natural and 
not the result (if it ever be) of intemperate living. Are such vague 
charges to be admitted without one syllable of proof ? and of ail the 
contemporary writers, edited and unedited, is there none to back 
these attestations with a single instance ? Let them then be dis- 
missed as the malice of her arch-enemy and the inconsiderate abuse 
of those who are not her friends. To prove Bianca sterile there was 
a powerful motive ; to assert that she was so is not to prove it. Tkis 

spirit of the dead Cardinal hovered over the name he had made infamous and 
sought to obliterate, and added liis immortal hatred to tlie sarcasm of a pen cruel 
at times as the poison, the halter, or the knife, of the writer's hated Medici. 



Ari^EXDix II. 397 



talk of sterility caused in amarriiMlwoinanof thirtjfby her dissipation 
may do for the 16th century, but will not for this. ( 17) If Bianca, after 
producing Pellegrina, really was incapable of bearing more children, 
it was the defect of her organization and had nothing to do with her 
course of life. But the probability is, that that vile poisoner, the second 
son of the poisoner Cosmo, Avas only at his father's practices. What 
were the colic spasms vrhich took olf, once before, his brother's hope 
of issue by Bianca ? It may have been even that the premature de- 
livery of Joanna (see y. 157S) was some of his doing. (18) He knew not 
then that his brother would wed Bianca ; and it is certain that his rage 
at that disappointment of his hopes was greater than was decent. See, 
as before, yy. 1586, 7. Tliese terms '■'■ disordini," '■' coruttela," '' medi- 
cine," were, I little doubt, invented by the Cardinal or his partisans to 
substantiate the accusation of the plot, and to justify the assertion that 
her various pregnancies were simulated. 

Finally, the Duke, who, according to Botta, knew that this was a 
supposititious child, recommends him, according to Galluzzi, to the care 
of the Cardinal, and the Cardinal Grand-duke, as I have twice implied 
and as will be seen presently, takes care of him, and sutTers him to 
enjoy the name he thought too good to be defiled by a child of the 
Senator Capello ! In fact, the wiiole thing is an absurd jumble. I be- 
lieve the facts are just as I have given them in the play. If that bo 
romance, never did romance in my opinion come so near to history, as 
surely in this episode of the House of Medici never did history bor- 
row so much from romance. ■ 

Joanna died the 11th of April, 1.j7S, — ■' attraversatosi il feto gih 
1578 morto nell' utero,'' — not having strength to sustain the remedies 

of art. {Granduc. ii. 299.) This was nearly two years o/Xer the 
deaths of Isabella and Eleonora. Noble, whom for obvious reasons I 
have followed in the text, says she died April 6, 1578, in premature 

(17) Witness the present Queen of Spain. 

(IS) I am speaking with due reflection, when I say I do notbelieve the Car^linal 
was in anywise too good to have abused his intimacy for that purpose. 



398 BIANCA CAPELLO 



labor, shocked hy the murder of Isabella and Eleonora, wno were both 
strangled on the same day. Galluzzi would have it that the honors 
paid to Yittorio (Bianca's brother) on coming to Florence contributed 
to Joanna's death. (19) 

. . " Era [Joanna] di piccola statura, di faccia pallida, e di aspetto 
non vago." {ib. p. 299.) The Cardinal a great favorite of Joanna's. 
[We may suppose him therefore fomenting the dissatisfaction of the 
people, who, we are told, libeled the Duke while they praised the 
Duchess.] This period was the epoch of the fiercest discord between 
the brothers, "non piu velata dalla dissimulazione ma ratificata al 
pubblico da molte apparenti dimostrazioni." {ih. 300.) 

Antonio e Piero Capponi and Bernardo Girolami, the most distin- 
guished of the rebels who had acted with Pucci and Ridolfl, fled to 
France, where they openly defamed Francesco. And the Cardinal 
maintained constant relations with that countr3\ (i&.) Here too Gal- 
luzzi shows a spirit of animosity to Francesco ; for he says that the 
desire of vengeance, "passione predominante nelli spiriti deboli," [a 
false assumption and contradicted by his own example, not to say of 
the Cardinal, yet of Cosmo, whose mind was anything but a weak one] 
animated him.to put an end to the chief conspirators there. [Yet he had 
endeavored to disarm Orazio Pucci by numerous benefits, and it was the 
Cardinal who suggested the arrest of this hereditary rebel.] Curzio 
Picchena da Colle was Secretary of tlie Embassy, a young and enterpris- 
ing man. He was provided with poison, etc. Forty thousand ducats 
promised for each death, besides eA^enses ! {ib. 301.) This too Sis- 
mondi, who adds : "II lui [le G.-d. a Picchena] fit passer des poisons 
subtils, dont Cosnie 1" avait etabll dans son palais une mannfacture^ 

(19) "We are reminded of the avowal or bonst, — "all extracted faithfully from 
the Medicean Archives." The singleness of his sources of information tends to 
render Galluzzi's volumes unreliable as a historj\ 

It will be elsewhere seen, that a modt-rn writer lias found in the same Archives 
evidence sufficient to overthrow all, and absolutely, the opinions previously 
formed as to tlie character of that abominable woman, Caterina de' Medici ! They 
must be, as he says, a jyrecious deposit of historical documents! 



APPENDIX II. 399 



qu'il pretenclait etre un atelier cle chiaiie pour les experiences " ; and 
so on, after Galluzzi. Eepub. Ital. t. 10. p. 22G sq. — Girolami died, 
and tlie rest [mark this j] lay the murder on tlie Duke ; of whose crim- 
inality Galluzzi adduces no one proof. They, the conspirators, dis- 
persed themselves in France and England ; but the cut-throats of the 
Grand-duke followed them and ''in course of time gave him all the 
satisfaction he desired.'" (2 )) A Florentine assassin, broken on the 

(20) We have seen howBotta speak? of Francis, — the -stupid and cruel 3Iedici. 
SismoncU's summing-np of his cliaracter is as follows: "•Frangois, tout aussi per- 
fide, tout aussi cruel, que son pere, mais bien plus dissolu(a), Lien plus vaniteux', 

(a) Thnn Cosmo I who was said, on more than suspicion, to have debauched both his own daughter and 
the betrothed of his snn. Where are the victims of Francesco's lust ? We hear of none but Bianca, who 
is reproached with having mcde him hers I And for her his passim, which in 157G had already lasted thir- 
teen years, showed no abatement. This in itself is inconsistent with the charge of dissoluteness, which sup- 
poses indulgence in various amours, and cannot apply to one attachment, whether sanctioned by the Church 
or not. 

In note (11) I quoted largely from a special chapter of G::lluzzi's showing that in the particulars that made 
Cosmo's reign illustrious Francesco's was not less splendid than his.* We are told there, besides, that the 
former spent whole days in the galleries of his art-collections. With such a record, he could not have been 
dissolute were he married to half a dozen Biancas and enamored of them all. In dissoluteness man gives np 
bis brain. The abuse of those life-energies which God designed, as with other animals, but for the reproduc- 
tion of the kind, is incompatible with continued study and such application to the interest of the artj and of 
learning as we have seen ascribed, with compulsory trnth, to the G. Duke Francis. 

In every drawing of an historical character, consideration should be had to the manners of the time. We 
shall presently see what were the morality ajid decency of the Court of Catharine of Medici. The Bassompierre 
incidentally mentioned in apreviouspassage, who bridges over for us in this relation the end of the 16th and the 
beginning of the 17th century, is an evidence that the profligacy of persons of rank in the era I am busy with was 
not evanescent either in its grossness or its excessive turpitude. That favorite of Henry IV., and ornament of 
the Court of Louis XIII., confessed to a ruffianly complicity in the most brutal of all outrages; an act for 
■which he came nearly being stoned, as he deserved to be fully, by the people of the place of the occurrence.t 
This was in ICOI, seventeen years after the death of Francesco, who is handled by historians as if he were the 
only sinner, where in his position there was scarcely any other class. So with his alleged cruelty : it was 
the characteristic of the age. Henry III. of France, a prince w ho, though debauched by the devilish artifices 
of a bad mother — a Medici, was not without virtues, got rid of two dangerous enemies, the Duke and the Car- 
dinal of Guise, by assassination. This was in 15t8. In l£g9, he was himself murdered.! In 1£84, William 
of Orange underwent the same fate in the Netherlands. Not thirty years before (15.i5-6) occurred in England 
the burning of the heretic bishops and other reforming clergy, while Scotland was defiled in 1547 by the 
: of Cardinal Beaton, of Kizzio in 1566 and of Darnley in 1567. In 1520 took place the massacre of the 



' lam rot claiming for it beneficence, nor wisdom. The money bestowed in collecting, at extravagant 
prices, treasures of ancient art in statuary and in medals al"np, should have been ratlier devoted to his jeo- 
ple's solid advantages. But neither was Cosmo in the least degree benefcent ; and compared with his reign 
■who bears the e| ithei of Great, in what is Francis' less honorably conspicuous, even by Galluzzi's own acknowl- 
edgment? The strong animal blood of the Medici was as productive of vices and of crimes (taking the 
record at the worst) in one as in the other. 

t Ha| pilv, the viUany designed was not consummated, although the outrage was. See his own Memoirs, 
av- Pet toti t. XIX. (Paris lb22) p. 3-:3. As he was rewarded for his vile com) laisanre by an honor that 
gratif.cd his viiiity as a courtier, we may suppose that his compunction — ("cc ?ueje/s oyronfi rearer, etces 
pauvris flics r leuroient " — ) was stifled by one of the meanest of motives. 

I To the great jov of his Catholic subjects, and of the Pope, Sixtus V., who '■ feared not to sanction in cold 
fclood, irfull consistory, the regicide . . and elevating the name of .lames Clement above those of Judith and 
Eleazar Maccabeus, compared the m/ra^aJoKS event to the Incarnation and the Resurrection of the Lord " t 
Martin (after De Thou) : Hist, de France, ed. c, t. xi. p. 210, note. 



400 BIANCA CAPELLO 



wheel, confessed to having been sent expressly into France by the G. D. 
to murder Troilo Orsini [one would have thought the D. of Bracciano 
had been the more likely instigator] for six thousand ducats, and after- 

bien plus irascible que lui [how does this accord with his dissimulatiou, as Galluzzi 
states it ^jUhtvait aucun des talents par lei<ques Cosme l^"" avait fonde sa 
grandeur [it was something more than talent.^ Cosimo employed]. Aussi fut il, 
plus encore que lui, Tobjet de la haine des peuples, et cette haine n'otait melee 
d'auczm sentiment de ref^pect pour son habilet':y R. It. 1. 10. p. 225. Galluzzi, 
inconsistent with himself, writes in positive contradiction to all the chief points ia 
this repulsive picture. After saying he w:is the greatest dissembler of all princes, 
inexorable with his inferiors, and with his equals haughty to the degree of wishing 
their humiliation, he declares on the other hand, his laws show him to have beeo a 
Prince just and impartial, an enemy of corruption, " amorevole con i sud- 
detti" [reconcile this to the "inexorable, etc." above, for 1 can not], efornito di 
tidte quelle qualltd, die si desiderano in un RerjuanteP If he was furnished 
with all those qualities ichich are desirable in a sovereign, what are we ta 

nobles in Sweden. The atrncities of that pious hypocrite and sanguinary egotist, that superlative com 
pound of all that is vile in the priesthood and odious in kings, Philip II. of Spain, who could not die without 
a fourteen-times-repeated sacrament, the atrocities perpetrated or sanctioned by him everywhere where his 
power extended, from the privacy of his palace to the utmost reach of his wide dominion (1556-1598), are 
familiar to the history-class of every school. And in 1572 toolc place the Massacre of St. Bartholomew, when 
the groans of thousands of butchered heretics made music to the ears of Satan, and echoed so delightful to- 
the fancy of Gregory XIII., that, not content witli celebrating the glorious event by cannon-firing, illumin- 
ations and a solemn procession to the churches of a God of Peace, he had a medal struck, in which the De- 
stroying Angel on one side was balanced by his own bust on the other.* Everywhere blood, blood; and blood 
ehed tyrannically, barbarously, basely. But centuries make no difference in the record of human crime. Two 
hundred and ninety years after the infernal blood-bath of St. Bartholomew, a traitorouspart of the low Irish in 
this city enacted in a narrower shambles, on inoffensive blacks, the God-defying butchery wliich the papist- 
ical zealots perpetrated on Coligni and his coreligionists, — crushing out their brains with stones and sus- 
pending their quivering bodies to lampposts, and, with a savageness of fury that cannot be called vindictive- 
rage, beating to death, dragging through the kennels, and hangingup his muddy, half-eviscerated and scarcely- 
recognizable remains, their own countryman who in his military office was man and citizen enough to adhere- 
to his duty, — and this from no religious antipathy, but from a latent envy, mingled strangely with barbarous 
contempt, and roused to violence by partisan hatred of the great government that protected them and enabled 
them to obtain from a corrupt and semi-foreign municipality, disloyal like themselves, their absurd privi- 
leges. Two years later, after acts of atrocious inhumanity committed in cold blood by the despairing Rebels,, 
and wanton piracies, and robbery, and schemes of disgusting villany for the conflagration of great cities^ 
and the introduction into them of the desolation of pestilence, occurred by the hand of a political fanatic the 
death of President Lincoln, even such a murder as those of Henry III. and IV. of France and William of 
Orange. Were I to write one word as the Finis of the universal history of mankind from fabulous Adam 
down, — a word that should express the lesson to be gathered for man's hope of moral betterment, — it woul* 
be DESPAIR. 

• The Holy Father, who saw the necessity of reforming the Calendar for the sake of the Church, had no 
idea of a reformation in the Church itself. So, in addition tn othor signs of approbation, the a?od apostle of 
peace and good-will unto men caused a picture to be rn.T'.e of the massacre and exhibited in the Vatic in '• en 
lieu triJs-apparent et honorable ", where, according to M. Martin, it stimulates devotion still. lb. 597 sq. 



APPENDIX II. 401 



ward retaiued fur other murders. He said moreover that the Am- 
bassador and Secretary had frequent intervievrs with him for the pur- 
pose. [All this, remember, on the assertion of a hired assassin. But 
it is certainly an extraordinary indication of the state of the times in 
which such an accusation could be made against an ambassador.] 
The Secretary (Picchena) in consequence was arrested. Out of friend- 
ship hovrever for the Medici he was released, but banished perpetu- 
ally. Grancluc.u. 325, sq. See remonstrances of the Queen of France 
on this murder of Troilus, etc. ib. p. 356. (21) 

think of those aspersions upon his rule, and upon liis character both as a man and* 
a prince, which are read not only in Sismondi as above and furnish material for the 
gloomy etchings of Eotta, but are scattered throughout his history by Galluzzi 
himself? "I&uoi ialenti e le sue cognizioni erano certamenie superiori a 
quelle di qunlunque Principe del stioi tempi, ec. ec." Granduc. ii. 42S. It is 
impossible to get over the positiveness of this declaration, which moreover is 
maintained by an enumeration of the accomplishments for whicli the historian 
claims this superiority of Francis-Mary in talent and in knowledge to all the 
Princes of his time. Those who are curious in the matter will find on consulting 
his second volume, Cap. X., such a record of Francesco's devotion to the fine arts, 
to the embellishment and renown of Florence through them, his encouragement 
of learned men, his own acquirements in the sciences, as will not only make them 
marvel at Galluzzi's prejudice, but pronounce the assertion of Sismondi, that the 
people's hatred of Francesco was qualified by no sentiment of respect for his abil- 
ities, a monstrous misrepresentation, v. supra (11). 

(21) This was the Queen-Mother, Catharine of Medici, whom I have alluded to 
as lending her aid to the worst and most indecent debaucheries that ruined what 
was good in Henry Ill.(a) A detestable woman, the chief pi-omoter if not instiga- 
tor of the Massacre of St. Bartholomew(b), whose horrors she contemplated with 



(a) In all her policy, Catharine made great use of handsome women and amorous intrigue, having always 
about her a swarm ot brilliant and facile bsauties (the phrase is M. Martin's), who went familiarly by the 
facetious name of hev Jlj/ing squaJron — "I'escadron volant do la Reine." Makt. Hist. X. 75. 

(b) Charles was full of hesitation, and even of horror as the hour approached; but Catharine stood by his 
side, his evil monitor, ana when arg:ument failed roused the devil of his nature by impeaching his manhood. 
Id. (after D'Aubignc), ib. 370. Alberi however, a life-writer presently to be cited, maintains, not only that 
neither of them desired or provoked the massacre, but that both used their utmost power to moderate its ex- 
eesses 1 Vit. nt inf. p. 105. 



402 BIAXCA CArELLO 



Bianca, while the Grand-duke treated the Cardinal harshly, 
1580 acted Avith great suavity and an appearance of affection and 

submissiveness. — The Cardinal wanting money, and Fran- 
cesco refusing an anticipation of his revenue, Bianca procured the 

perfect indifference. (c) Daughter of Lorenzo, Duke of Urbino, and niece of 
Giulio, Clement VII., even her merits, like her vices, were those of her family. 
That she should remonstrate ag:iinst the poisoning of Troilus could have been 
only because, under the circumstances, it insulted her supremacy(d), not from 
scruples of conscience ; for her hand, tlie Medici hand, was recognized in the sud- 
^den deaths of Jane of Navarre and Mary of Cleves, and some suspected even that 
she poisoned her own son Charles IX. (e) 

(r) She dill something more, and the historian cites it as an evidence of the depravation of morals in hee 
Court: " On vit Ics filles d'Lonneur de la reine mere, et Catherine elle-meme, examiner, avec des remarqaea 
obscenes, las corps depouille's des gentilshommes husuer.ots de leur cor.naissance." ib. "?0. The example 
is one rather of the horrible callousness to which the common cruelty of the age had brought even the gentler 
and timid sex. As lor the feminine remarks, Ihcy too are rather an illustration of the coarseness of the 
time than of its licentiousness : it was depravity simply naked and shameless ; for, save in the closeness and 
the adornment of its drapery, the carnal-spirit, or beast-man, is much the same in all ages. 

But that ingenuous and pleasant chronicler, Pierre de I'Estoile, in his curious but valuable medley, Joumat 
de Henri III. {Mem. pour servir &-r., in Petitot's Collection, t. 45, p. 78,) tells us something more startling Ihau 
even this indecent cruelty. Catharine, it seems, was not at all behind certain of her noble subjects, who 
availed themselves of the pretext, often false, of heresy, to put to death their own relations, in order to get 
possession of their property, — what might be called a natural concomitant and consequent of such commo- 
tions, wherein right and wrong are often, both by accident and by design, confounded. " En ce terns [just 
after the St. Bartholomew] la bonne dame Catherine, en faveur de son mignon de Rets, qui vouloit avoir la 
terre de Ver.sailles, fit etrangler aux prisons Lomenie, Secretaire du Roy, auqucl ladite torre app artenoit, et 
fit mourir encore quelques autres pour recompenser ses servitenrs de confiscations." 

(d) She so avowed indeed to the G. Duke'.i Secretary ..." perche II G. P. non tien cento di me, arzi coa 
tanto dispiaccr mio e del Re ci ha fatto ammaz-zare sugli occhi Troljo Orsini ed altri, che non ci par ben fatlo, 
essendo questo Regno libero, e che ognuno si puo stare." toe. cit. 

It is curious to note how the powerful animal character of the Medici is traceable even in the females. A3, 
a rule, children take more after their mothers than their fathers, but both in Catharine and in Mary of Medici 
we have the traits, not of the mother's blood but of the father's, while Charles IX. of France may be thought 
to have derived his evil dispositions from his mother, as undoubtedly they were encouraged, intensified, and. 
brought into frightful action by that unprincipled and pitiless woman. 

(e) L'Estoile has preserved for us a rather indifferent epigram of the time on Catharine, which compares, 
her to Jezebel. It concludes thus : 

" Enfm le jugement est tel : 
Far uiie vengeance divine, 
Les chiens mangerent Jezabel ; 
La charogne de Catherine 
Sera dilferente en ce point, 
Car les chiens n'en voudront point." Coll. cit. t. 47. p. SO. 

Those who would see how an Italian in Florence, having at heart the honor of its once ruling (amilv, and- 
writing, in this century as did Galluzzi in the last, under the auspices of a Grand-duke of the Austrian House, 
and moreover an ardent Roman Catholic, has sought to explain away all the facts which have been brought 
to bear against both Catharine of Medici and Charles IX., may consult Eugenio /ilberi, in Vita di Caterlna 
de' Medici ; Fireme, in 4to. 1638. The writer says in his Preface : " Mi son trovalo condotto a rovesciare 
tutte le opinioni finora ricevute intorno a lei, ec." (an extensive undertaking) ; and paying special honor ta 



APPEXDIX II. 403 



favor for the Cardinal, who thereupon came to Florence to show recon- 
ciliation, ib. 333. 

The bands of predatory soldiers, who were protected secretlj'- by the 
Church-feudatories, — nay, sometimes openly assisted them, so that, 
says the writer, "la depravazione facea apprendere 1' assassinamento 
come un esercizio cavalleresco,"' — added to the troubles. The most 
famous of these wretches was Pietro Leoncillo da Spoleti, supposed 
son of the Cardinal Farnese, who with a baud of four hundred mis- 
creants in various squads infested the frontiers, id. 340. 

The Cardinal dissembling "affects confidence and friendship 
1583 

,-„, with the Grand-duchess." ib. 382. 
1584 

One of the Grand-duke's favorites at this time was the Auditor 

of the Treasury, Carlo Antonio del Pozzo, universally hated for his 
severity in office, but of rare learning and acute intellect and aptitude 
for emergencies, which compelled esteem. This office he held in 

1572 Promoted in 1582 to the Archbishopric of Pisa Conducted 

himself always with rectitude and disinterestedness, and, showing 
gratitude to the Cardinal to whose favor he owed his first steps in good- 
fortune, he used his influence with both to maintain their brotherly 
unity. Such a man could not always please the corrupt and weak 



ibc Archivio Meiiceo . . "quel prezioso dpposito di storici documenti " — wherein, he says, " con esito cor- 
rispondente alia aspettazione, mi e venuto fatto di rinvenire gravissime ed irrefragabili testimonianze in 
favore del nnovo criterio ch' io gia mi era formato di Caterina de' Medici," he proceeds to assert that tha 
crimes imputed to hei will be found all to resolve themselves into the injustice of the two factions she en- 
deavored to conciliate, but which were emulous in her vilification. 

Having myself endeavored to redeem the character of Bianca CxpeUo from the calumniation of personal 
enemies, I could not but look with interest upon this effort in a similar, yet in point of facts contrary, 
direction. He has massed together a variety of interesting documents both as to the two chief personages 
of his Essay, as he modestly calls it, and to characters with them historically connected intimately or re- 
motely ; but he fails to overtlrrow, and indeed avoids attacking any one of those facts which are adduced, not 
by partisan or Protestant writers, but by contemporaries and plain chroniclers who not only present inter- 
nal evidence of probity, but are universally admitted to be reliable. Catharine of the Medici must, for all 
the industry and patriotism of her countryman, remain a Medici, — dissolute, dissembling, intriguing, inor- 
dinately as selfishly ambitious, false of tongue and frigid in heart, cruel, unscrupulous, remorseless ; her 
very merits, as I have elsewhere intimated, the merits of her father's family where best, — talented, adroit, 
resolute, audacious, magnificent in the use of wealth, whose resources she but valued for the purposes of her 
policy and the real or supposed lustre of her iniquitous administration. A bad mother, and wicked among 
the wickedest of queens, she ruined body and soul two monarchs, both her sons, and has left for herself a re- 
nown indelible as that of the Massacre with whiich it is associated, and, since undivided, even more infa- 
inooa. 



404 BIANCA CAPELLO 



Francis. — Abbioso, having now returned from Venice, because of 
the rupture with that Republic, professed himself openly the enemy 
of the Cardinal, to whose hostility he attributed his difficulty in getting 
the Coadjutorship of the Bishopric of Pistoia at Eome, "per esser 
guercio e difforme." But the new Archbishop of Pisa knew how to 
preserve the esteem of all parties. Affecting [note in this sentence 
the contradiction to what is said above of his constant rectitude and 
disinterestedness] to make the Duke and Bianca " gli arbitri di tutte le 
parti graziose del suo ministro, e mostrandosi esemplaro e zelante, si 
acquistava opinione di santita e si preparava la strada al Papato."— 
The Cardinal dissembling, but ill-satisfied with this position of affairs ; 

and Francesco, showing openly disregard of his dissatisfaction, 

augmented the boldness of his ministers and more exasperated his 
brother, (ib. 333-390.) 

Cardinal Ferdinand causes the election of the Cardinal Peretti 
^"^ as Sixtus Y., and becomes thus omnipotent with the new Pontiff. 

At the marriage of Donna Virginia with Don Cesare d'Este [sub- 
1586 sequently Duke of Modena], appeared her mother, tlie beautiful 

Camilla Martelli, after a confinement of twelve j-ears. The Car- 
dinal and D. Pietro courted her continually and induced the chief 
people of the city to honor her, in order to disgrace tlio Grand-duke, 
p. 404. TJie rumored j^r'jgnancy of the Grand-duchess induced the two 
to return to Florence to watch events. — Grand-duke sliuts up again 
Camilla, moved especially thereto by the secret visits of his brothers 
to her. p. 405. The brothers correspond on the reputed pregnancy of the 
Grand-duchess — profess to each other suspicions that she is going to 
im2)0se a suppositUious cMld upon the G. -D., to shut them out of the suc- 
cession, p 406. D. Pietro appears throughout the dupe of the Car- 
dinal. 



The Cardinal, appearing to be reconciled, sent a gentleman, his 
■^^^^ confederate, to Florence, to announce his presence in Sep- 
tember. The historian says: "Facilito maggiormente questo ac- 



APrENDix II. 405 



comodamento I'essersi ormai assicurato [Francesco] della vanita delle 
sue speranze, poiche la gravidanza dclla Granduchessa si era gia 
disciolta con una colica e non senza grave pericolo della sua vita [ob- 
serve this !] di modo clie il caso di aver prole era ormai disperato." 
ib. 419. If the pregnancy was assumed, why was the deceit ended ? 
I should rather have suspected tliat the colic, which put sei^ioushj 
in peril her life, was the result of poison administered through the 
impulsion of one whose interest was involved in the vanity of the 
Duke''s hopes. ■ 

The Cardinal arrives October 1 Received with every mark of 

affection and cordiality Went immediately with his brother and 

the Grand-duchess to Villa del Poggio at Caiano — where it was cus- 
tomary to resort for the chase every autumn Grand-Cluchess exerts 

herself to make a sincere union between the two brothers On the 8th 

October, Grand-duke attacked with fever, v»'hich the physicians pro- 
nounced to be tertian Two days after, the Grand-duchess with the 

same. — Besides the Court-physicians, Baldini and Cappelh, the Car- 
dinal's physician, Gkilio Cini, rendered his assistance. They kept the 
malady concealed at first, but nevertheless confused rumors got abroad. 
It was reported to the Pope, the Grand-duke had made himself sick 
with eating mushrooms. But on the 10th October, it was written, he 
had a continual fever and excessive thirst, {ih. 423.) On the ninth 
clay, the fever increased, and daath ensued, October lOlh. "Voile 
sempre medicarsi a suo modo con cibi e bevande gelate [the desire 
for food would be caused by the gnawing pain in his stomach, and for 
the iced drinks, why not ?], e siccome nel corso della raalattia dimos- 
tro una sete ardentissima, fa creduto clie morisse arso dai cibi e bevande 
calide delle quali faceva uso assai smoderato."(22) Wlien he knew 

(22) I suppose this case of Bianc.i and the Grand-duke, as well as that of the 
Cardmal Ippolito, to be one of p!)isoning by arsenic {fiee Taylor as before 
cited, chap, xxiii. p. 252 sqq ). According to that English toxicologist, arsenic, 
though it irritates and inflames, has no chemical or corrosive action on the viscera, 
although on p. 255 one doubtful instance is recorded of a seriously corrosive ac- 



406 BIANCA CAPELLO 



the malady was mortal, he called his brother, demanded pardon for 
the past, communicated to him the countersigns of the fortresses, re- 
commended his spouse, Don Antonio, his ministers, and all who were 

tion, the effects corresponding to that in the visceral membrane of the Cardinal, 
But Orfila, a much liigher authority, ascribes a destructive action to irritant poisons i 
(Euv. cit. T. I. p. 75; also 421. He considers it incontestably proved, "que les 
plaques gangreneuses des \eg\ivaQnt?, peuvent egalement nppartenir a tous Usjioi- 
sonsqul agissent avee une tris-grande activitey ih. 07(5. This is the language,, 
not only of experience, but of common sense. Yet while he cites (p. 76 t. i.) a case in 
point from Hoffman (cf. ih. ii. 896), he quotes on p. 421 the observation of Brodie, 
that spots of congested blood are often taken for eschars, and instances from the 
same eminent English surgt^on (in Philos. Trans, for 18;2) a case where a woman- 
dying on the fourth day, "a Touverture du cadavre on trouva la membrane- 
muqueuse de Testomac et des intestins ulcere dans une tres-grande etendue" 
(434 sq.). He gives moreover (with which I will conclude my ample, but I hope 
not uninteresting, accumulation of instances) the case from Etmiiller of a young 
girl poisoned by arsenious acid, " neither tchose stomach nor entrails offered any 
trace of inflammation or of gangrene; oieveriheless arsenic was found in. 
that mscus." i. p. 420. Comp. ii. 895. 

See ib. in vol. ii. p. 904 sqq , for a consideration of maladies which may be con- 
founded with acute poi-oning. The passage affords nothing to abate suspicion ia 
the case of the Duke and Bianca, and, whether the account of their ten and eleven 
days' suffering be correct, or the popular one of almost immediate dissolution, 
there can be no doubt that the ill-fated pair were poisoned(a), while there is every 
probability thatit was effected by arsenious acid.(b) Galhizzisays, " Nellasezione 
del sue cadavere [del G. D. sc] la sede principal del male apparve nel fegato"' 
{ut supra, 424) : on the dissection of the Duke''s body, the principal seat of 
the malady appeared to be in the liver. Now, it is precisely the liver which, 
according to Taylor, is attacked by arsenic. And further I may add, that when 

(a) Sismondi hiniBelf did not doubt it ; . . . "empoisnnne [Frangnis], ainsi que sa femme, dans un repa* 
de reconciliation, e«c.'" x. p. 227, — citing, besides Galluzzi, Anpuillasi, Nutizia del Popfia a Caiano, p. 117 ; 
a worls I have not been able to procure. Botta rejects with easy contempt the popular traditions, hut does 
not commit himself to any opinion of his own. 

(b) The mineral poisons, and the mechanical poison (so to call it) of comminuted glass, were probably the- 
only ones in criminal use in the 16th century. In the first decade of the 17th, we observe Shakspeare- 
VTiting, 



APPENDIX II. 407 



dear to him. (23) The Cardinal, comforting Jiim, sent to take jjossession 
of the fortresses, ordered the assembling of the troops, etc. 421. (24) 

they bled him (twice!) his surgeons took the best means to give effect to the 
poison, (c) 

(23) Was this the stupid and cruel Medici, of Eotta? the perfidious, merciless, 
dissolute and vainglorious son of Cosmo, of Sismondi? the dissembling, inex- 
orable and arrogant Prince, of Galluzzi ? A man, I well know, may be of a loving 
disposition and tender almost to effeminacy, yet have that contradictory quality iu 
him, that, when roused by anger or perturbed by boilily fear, he will be in the 
former case ferocious, and in the latter remorselessly, no, unhesitatingly cruel. 
But while this absolute fact, not hypothesis, goes to confirm the ui>favorable side 
of Francesco's character as displayed (after the manner of his day) toward his in- 
veterate and dreaded political enemies, j-et it will not explain his devotion to his 
friends. A man who in his dying hour has forethought for all who are dear to 
him, particularizing each one, who, with that magnanimity which belongs to delicate 
and noble souls alone, exaggerating ia his own eyes his own errors and losing 
sight entirely of the grosser offences of otliers toward him, could ask forgiveness 
of the brother who had persistently maligned, intrigued against, as well as hated 
him, and insulted the woman he passionately loved, such a man was more truly 
Christian than those who, forgetful of charity, emblazon but his errors and mag- 
nify his crimes. 

In thus speaking, it will be seen I assume the record copied by Gallnzzi to be 
correct. But my belief, I beg leave to reiterate, is positively to the contrary. I 
do not credit one word of this death-bed scene. 

(24) . . "il quale now tardi a farsi ricono:^cere per padrone; perciocche, 
avendo mostrato il Castellano di Livorno alqiianto di renitensa a consegnare 
quella Fortezza ad un gentiluomo da lui inviato cola con contrassegno, 4^ /eca 
impiccare.'"' Mtjratoki, nM cit. The haste of the Cardinal, it will -be observed, 
is not more remarked by Muratori than by Galluzzi. It is a precious passage 
that, " The Cardinal, comforting Mm, sent, &c." 

Now, if the Cardinal was beloved of the people {Galluzzi), and if Francis died 

(c) "In case of arsenical poisoninfr, the liver ... is generally more strongly impregnated with arsenic 
than the other soft organs. The proportion of absorbed arsenic found in it is, according to M. Flandin, nint 
tenths of the wltole quantity carried into the circulation. Where arsenic is not found in the contents of the 
stomach, and death has taken place within the usual period, it may commonly be detected in the liver." Taylor, 
p. 29. Orfila, on the contrary, who frequently condemns the opinions of Flandin, scarcely mentions the 
UveT. if at all, among the viscera attacked. Further, he prescribes bleeding {after vomiting) : i. 79. 



408 BIAMCA CAPELLO 



Bishop Abbioso, Bianca's claugbter Pellegriua, and Ulysses Benti- 
voglio her son-in-law, were charged with the care of Bianca. She 
died on the 2fJth of October. (25) 

to the imdiisembled joy and with the universal hatred of his subjects {Sismo7idi), 
why did the former make such haste to seize the fortresses ? to seize them even 
before the bi-eiith was out of his brother's body ? Of whom was he afraid ? 
Was not the throne yet firmly settled? Or was there any doubt of the 
illegitimacy of Don Antonio, whom he had made by a most atrocious plot to be, 
and still makes the world believe to have been, foisted on the Grand-duke, while 
a modern historian, to cap the climax of absurdity, declares him to have been, t7t,e 
stupid Medici, perfectly satisfied when the Grand-duchess with a sublime effront- 
crj^ avowed the treasonous imposition ? Again, if the Cardinal was persuaded by 
his documents, received from the judicial examination of tlie Bolognese Governess, 
and which he took care to have preserved in the Medicean Archives, that Don 
Antonio was tut a sprout from the soil of the people, having no claim to any con- 
sideration other than that of an innocent victim of the venality of his mother, why 
did he continue the Grand-duke's benefactions to him, so immeasurably beyond 
his occasions even were he noble ?(a) It is obvious that there must have been 
doubt and uneasiness in the popular mind, or where was the need to publish that 
act declaratori/ of the nativity of D. Antonio? And by the by, assuming the 
account above to be correct, that on his death-bed the Grand-duke recommended 
this very youth to his brother's care, how came Botta by the story that the Grand- 
duke knew all alaout his origin ? Seldom does history ofi"er us such trumpery as is 
comprised in the account of the rise and fall of the Grand-duchess Bianca. But 
the Cardinal was able to make history for himself, and I verily believe he did it. 

(25) In the second month of this same year, Mary of Scotland was murdered in 
another way. The coincidence is worth noting. Both nearly of an age, but 
Mary a little theolder(b); both handsome, and with a fascination of manner that 
enhanced the beauty from which chiefly it was derived ; both amiable, yet not 

(a) "A Don Antonio de Medici conserv6 il trattamento e le onorificanze assegnateli da Francesco." 
Granduc. ii. 432. 

The idea that he should have Bone this out of regdrd, not only to his brother's memory, hut to the innocent 
hoy whose more than bastardy he -was proclaiming in his very face, is preposterous. D. Antonio was prob- 
ably as legitimate as Elizabeth of Kngland, who too was the product of a secret marriage, and, moreover, b/ 
an act of bigamy. 

(b) Bianca fled from Venice in 15C3. If she was then eighteen, she was forty-two years old when poisoned. 
Mary, born Dec. 8, 1512, on February 18, 1587, when she was beht^aded. was but a htUc over forcy-four. 



APPEXDIX II. 409 



Taking this account to be accurate, we liave tliese remarkable facts, 
that two persons, husband and wife, were seized with intermittent 
fever within two days of each other, and that, in despite of the re- 
sources of art, —for we are not told that the Duke prescribed for 
Bianca " a suo modo ", — died within a day of eachother, conveniently 
to make the Cardinal sovereign. It were easier to believe the mur- 
derer himself, who said (as imputed to him), that Bianca, having tried 
to get rid of him, had the remarkable stupidity to poison the very dish 
her husband was sure to eat ofVand of wliich she herself was known 
to be fond, and that unable, without exciting suspicion, to prevent 
the Duke's indulging his appetite, herself, in her desperation and dis- 

witliout pi-ide and s[.irit ; both intellectual, and one accomplished; the lives of 
both romantic, but one (Maiy) knowing little else than misfortune, the other for- 
tunate until her death; both calumniated, but. Bianca having added to her imputed 
crimes the sin of witchcraft, the latter charge being reversed in Mary's case, for 
it was her husband who confessed be tried its futile practices upon her, while 
Eianca employed it, according to the Archives, on her husband, and (wonderful to 
relate!) with her husband's perfect knowledge. And (may I add without pre- 
sumption), as in the case of Mary Stiiart(2L\ so some future tragic poet may- 
reverse the picture of Bianca Capello, and paint her, not such as the Grand-duke 
loved her, but as the Cardinal hated. The change would be still easier than with 
Mary, and the tragedy would be more effective. But the poet would pervert, not 
history, but that truth which lies often hidden in the midst of history and is only 
to be found by those who independently seek it out for themselves. 

(a) I understand that Mr. Swinburne, in his drama of Ckastdard, has adopted, and with earnestness, the 
popular view against her. It woul 1 be difficult perhaps for an Englishman to do otherwise. Were I to 
write a tragedy on a theme which has been consecrated by the pen of Alfleri and of Schiller, I should, and 
with conviction, take the other side. 

The greatest source of Mary's misfortunes, and of her partial guilt, or at least of errors that partook of 
guilt and are arraigned as such, was her light, pliant, and thus inconstant temper. If she pardoned Both- 
well, it should be remembered that she forgave too the insolent, the treasonable murder of Rizzio, although 
in the passion of the moment she had declared she would avenge it. In fact, she was unfitted to be a queen 
by those very feminine qualities whioh would have made her loved, honored and admired in private life, pre- 
cisely as Elizabeth, by the very opposite, more than respectable as a sovereign, would have been detestabia 
as a simple matron. 

The greatest real blot upon the character of the Queen of Scots is probably that which is suggested by the 
name of the drama above-mentioned. The vanity of Chalelard had not carried him so far in his presump- 
tion had he not misredd the encouragement in Mary's eyes. And she suffered him to be sacrificed to save her 
reputation. In this too she was purely feminine, women who are very women feeling no more regret for 
those who perish by their coquetry than for the moth which singes its wings in the candle they dress by. 

18 



410 BTANC.V CAPELLO 



appointment, had the courage to perform a kind of internal 4iari- 
kari ! 

As the Duke's body was ordered to be opened, it was carried on the 
evening of that day to Florence with private honors, met at the gate 
by the clergy of San Lorenzo, the German guard and a number of his 
courtiers, and taken to the Church. For Bianca, Serguidi [Vittorio's 
successor in the Cabinet] was ordered to keep the body untouched 
till evening^ and then to have it opened in the presence of the daugh- 
ter, her husband, and the physicians. [The torchlight would not facil- 
itate an inspection which otherwise was not intended to be more than 
formal. What passed in the minds of the daughter and husband, if 
not of the physicians, may be conjectured.] It was carried in the 
same way as the Duke's to Florence on the 21st, then buried in tlie 
vaults of S. Lorenzo, in such a icay as not to leave anymemory of her : 
" non voile il Cardinal Granduca che si ammettesse fra i sepolcri dei 
Medici, ma lo fece seppellire nei sotterranei di S. Lorenzo in modo tale 
che al pubblico non restasse di lei veruna memoria." ih. 420. Was 
either Isabella or Eleonora buried in the public vaults ? Yet both 
were notoriously guilty of many adulteries, for which finally they died, 
and one of them besides was said to have committed incest with her 
own father, and the other to have gone to her virgin nuptial-bed al- 
ready pregnant by her father-in-law. Bianca did not lend an ear to 
every one icho ogled her, nor indulged in mean amours with her hus- 
band's pages. Yet History passes lightly over those godly actions of 
the princesses, or touches them witli a pencil which has no caricature 
or a pen which writes no syllable of reproach, while for Bianca there 
is no abusive name too foul. Historian vies with historian to redouble 
epithets of contumely and to charge the picture of her imputed mis- 
demeanors with the exaggerated traits of sarcasm. Why is this ? 
Because, like Mary of Scots, she had personal enemies, (2(3) and the 

(26) As the Cardinal, her lord's brother, was her adversary, at whose instigation 
and by whose machinatiims, aided often by the money he had solicited and ob- 
tained (0 the meanness ! and the perfidy !) through her aid, came all the evil 



APPENDIX II. 411 



arcliives of her husband's family have passed through fingers which 
had the power to subtract and multiply at will. 

Implacable in his vindictive hate, the quarterings of Bianca's arms 
were removed by order of the Cardinal Grand-duke, and for them sub- 
stituted those of Joanna. He could not bear to hear her even called 
Gi^and-ducliess. "Egli, irritato di tanti artifici ed intrighi di quella 
donna, nonpote contenersi piu liingamente nella simulazione. Ordino- 
pertanto estinguersi ogni memoria che esistesse al pubblico della sua 
persona, e che si togliessero dai luoghi pubblici le di lei armi inquar- 
tate con quelle de Medici con sostituirvi quell© di Giovanna d' Austria. 
In iirogresso nel doversi far menzione di lei, non pote soffrire die li 
si attrihuisse il titolo di GranducJiessa^ ed egli stesso in un atto de- 
claratorio dei natali di D. Antonio voile che si denominasse replicata- 
mente la pessima Bianca." 425, 6. 

The historian goes on then to relate what he calls the imagincmj ac- 
counts. Bianca wanted to poison the Cardinal by a tart. The Car- 
dinal had a ring which changed color, and warned him. He would not 
partake of the tart. Francis, not aware of the danger, ate of it, and 

that accompanied her latter days and survived her in an infamous renown, so it 
was the natural brother of Queen Mary (Earl of Murray) who was the secret in- 
stigator and promoter of all the schemes of her Protestant enemies. Muratori^ 
ad ann. 1587, records the tragical result in this manner : — " L'anno fu poi questo, 
in cui Elisabetta, Eegina Eretica d' Inghilterra, con eterna sua infamia, condanno 
alia morte Maria, Regina Cattolica di Scozia, non suddita sua, dope la prigionia di 
moltissimi anni. F^t ella e prima e dipoi oppressa da infinite calunnie de* 
moi nemici, per tentar pure di giustificar 1' atto barbaro e tirannico d' Elisabetta^ 
riprovata da chiunque portava il titolo di Principe(a)." Annal. cZ' Italia (in 
4to, Napoli, 1773), t. x. p. 462, Exception being made to his undissembled preju- 
dice against the heresiarch Elizabeth, his remarks are just, and would apply, 
mutatis imitandis, to Bianca. 



(a) This is an error. It was arFroved, as an act of policy, (as if policy could ever sanction crime, or lend 
more than the shadow of palliation to usurped power and to injustice !) by two or three, among whose 
names, if my memory does not deceive me, was the honorable and ever to be honored one of Henry of 
ITavarre. 



412 BIANCA CAPELLO 



Bianca, fearful of the consequence, partook, ih. " Imaginary," so far 
as this statement goes. But whence came the narrative which reverses 
all this, and which Noble gives, and I have adopted in the play ?(27) 
This account says, that there was served at the repasfblayicmange, of 
which the Duke AVas extremely fond. Ferdinand would not eat of it, 
pretending illness and disordered stomach. The poisoned pair were 
removed, in convulsions, to the only gloomy apartment in the whole 
villa. After their death, and then only, the Cardinal threw open the 
■doors. He pretended Bianca wished to poison him, but, seeing her 
husband eat of the entenomed sweetmeat, etc: (as above.) Here, it 
will be perceived, there is nothing in the detail that partakes of the 
marvelous or appeals to popular superstition. And it is perhaps for 
that reason, which adds to Its probability, that Galluzzi avoided men- 
•tionlng it, for it certainly was as worthy of record, even if based on 
vulgar fallacy, as its fellow-tradition. But in fact, this story has a 
particularity as well as plainness and naturalness of description which 
will not allow us, when considering all the circumstances preceding 
and following, and the ambitious and rancorous character of the Car- 
dinal, — a dissembler even by the acknowledgment of his eulogist, 
forever plotting, and as unsciupulous as untiring in his schemes of per- 
gonal aggrandizement, — will not allow us, I say, to ascribe it wholly 
to the ordinary invention and exaggeration of popular rumor ; 
although, were it otherwise, tlie story, accepted by writers of that 

(27) In Muratori we are toll, the Grand-duke died of an affection ("inferniitj."') 
■supposed not to be dangerous, and Bianca fifteen hours after. According to a 
contemjjorary, many believed that Bianca, " donna di altero si)h-ito," poisoned 
the Grand-duke out of jealousy, and then herself; others, that the Cardinal poi- 
soned both. Adiud. cf It. t. c. p. 461. 

It is plain enough, that the supposition of empoisonment, whether a murder or 
both murder and self-murder, was widely prevalent, if not the universal belief in 
Florence. The circumstances of the twofold death, and of the malady preceding 
it, were then such as to excite this belief or suspicion. Consequently, if we set 
aside the nearly simultaneous attack an! its results, they could not have boon 
such as detailed in the Archives. 



APPENDIX III. 413 



and subsequent times, is sufficient for the purpose of tlie dramatist 
•who believes, as I do, tliat he does not pervert the truth and give, to 
the great names of liistory, characters, M'hether for good or evil, that 
are undeserved. 



III. 

Portraits of Bianca, etc. 

Having alluded in the text to a picture of Bianca by Titian, I have 
thought it would interest the reader to be told of certain portraits, 
both of her and of the Grand Buke, still extant in Italy. 

At the time the tragedy was written, I did not know that the im- 
mortal colorist had really given to the world a likeness of its heroine. 
I merely supposed so probable a fact to aid the costume, — that is, to 
invest the scene with those adventitious circumstances which lend it 
reality, and make a picture of Venetian life, for example, seem truly 
such by local accidents, whicli recall from time to time the place and 
■era to the spectator's mind. But it appears that there is actually such 
a painting extant, and that it is, as I pretended, " One of the best from 
old Vecelli'S hand." v. infra, p. 416, sqq. 

In Count Litta's costly work (Fam. Gel. Ital., Milano 1825, in fol.), 
in Vol. II., is a bust-portrait of Bianca after Bronzino (Gallery of Flor- 
ence). It is in colors. The face is very full, with the golden-tinged 
fair hair which Titian and Giorgione loved and understood so well to 
paint, very regular, long and delicately-arched eyebrows, full and 
expanded forehead(l), eyes large and blue, and lively in expression, 

(1) Too much so for beauty. This is partly owing to the manner of dressing 
the hah-, which is reverted on all sides, but partly may arise from the bad judg- 
ment of the painter in exaggerating its surface, — as many English artists do, ab- 
sui-dly and untrutlifully, the size of the eyes. 



414 BIANCA CAPELLO 

nose not delicate though regular, (there seems to be a defect in the 
drawing, or in the copy, Avhich has thrown it a little to one side), and 
rather too large in the nostrils, lips curved and in proportion, but not 
handsome, and with an expression not agreeable ; the contour of the 
face more round than oval, — indeed of a faulty oval. There is nothing 
of the pride which Noble saw, or thought he saw, in the pictures at 
Strawberry Hill, nor yet of dignity, but rather of good humor and a 
slight degree of mischievousness and jocoseness. You see from the 
complexion and from the fulness and morhidesse of the flesh, that she 
must have been a voluptuons-looking blonde, one of that kind of 
women whose flesh is very white and delicate in the skin, but not firm, 
with eyes of a true blue, red lips, and faultless teeth, who more than 
any others have power both to v/aken passion and to keep it lively in 
the amorous. • 

It is probable that this polychrome is a bad miniature of an unfaith- 
ful picture ; for, as I have implied, there are faidts in it which will 
indicate, to any one moderately familiar with the art, that the portrait 
"was not true to nature, and that its faults have been exaggerated by 
the copyist-designer. It is true, the picture is of the Grand-duchess, 
not of the blooming maid whom Bonaveutuii, witli a fortune that 
makes his name seem almost the adaptation of fiction, snatched from 
her native soil to transplant where at a future day she should become 
the adornment of a royal garden, but even thus regarded, over ex- 
panded and partly faded, there is something clumsy, so to say, about 
the face, whicli cannot be Bianca. I am the more disposed to believe 
this from the fact that in Litta's plates the engraving after Titian of 
the Cardinal Ippolito in Hungarian costume difiers strikingly in the 
expression as well as in the eyes from the copy of the same work in 
the collection known as the Pitti Gallery. (2) Here we have the eyes 

(2) TaUeauy, etc. de la GuU. de Florence et dii Palais nttl : in fol, Paris 
1814. T. III. Tab. 12.— This and all the works consulted in the Appendix 
■will be found in that Library which the fur-reaching judgment and the munifi- 
cence of Mr. Astor ordained to be somethmg more than an ornament of our city. 



APPENDIX III. 415' 



placed at a normal distance apart ; but in tlic former tliey are so close 
together as to add very unpleasantly to the sharpness of the face in 
general, wliich is handsome but rather etreminate.(3) 

(3) As the Cardinal is mentioned with some particularity in both the preceding^ 
Appendices, and is an interesting character in himself, especially to those who 
consider what might have been the fortunes of Tuscany, had he, instead of his- 
cousin, been chosen to grace the unlawful title of Duke, with Cosmo thus shut ou* 
perhaps forever from the opportunity of an election, a description of his picture 
will not be amiss, although it bears but a remote connection with the text, and in • 
an illustrative point of view is valuable solely from the light it throws upon tha ' 
Eomish rank of Cardinal conferred upon the younger sous of princes or the bas- 
tards of men of power, without regard to character or qualifications or age, as a 
provision and a probable steppingstone to the Papacy. In this same casual light 
we are to consider the ecclesiastical function of the Cardinal Ferdinand, who, 
equally unqualified, though in another way, took it up as if it were but the mantla. 
of a dead man, when his brother, D. Giovanni, on whom it was originally bestowed^ 
came to his untimely end. 

The Cardmal Ippolito is represented with both mace and sword, and on the- 
ugly hat or toque, red like the rest of the habit, is a variegated plume, the prin- 
cipal feather of which is green. We are told that this portrait was taken at Bo- 
logna in 1530, when Titian went thiiher to paint Charles V. Ippolito was then ia 
his twentieth year, an age when foppery is pardonable in a handsome man, nor is- 
to be repressed though you wed him to the Church. Titian at the time was in alt 
the splendor of his power, and Vasari ranks this among the best of his portraits. 
The nose is delicate and rather sharp, the mouth well -formed, but, contrasted with 
the nose, sensuous. The expression of the eyes, as of the character of the face, is 
that of a generous, amiable, gentlemanly fellow, but who was not wanting in irasci- 
bility. There is no appearance of that pride which Yarchi says he had in excess^ 
neither in the style of his head nor its carriage, nor yet in the attitude, which, by 
the by, is without dignity, if not awkward, the habit moreover being to the last 
degree ungraceful. ( 

There is another picture of Ippolito done by Pantormo. He is here in armor^ 
and a legend tells us he was then in his eighteenth year. He looks eight and 
twenty, even in the beard, which may be called an impossibility in so mere a 
youth. It is a fine face, manly, very regular, very handsome. One hand rests oa 



416 BIAXCA CAPELLO 



On the same folio with Bianca is a portrait of tlie Grand Diike Fran- 
•cis, after Rubens, "witli an air decidedly distinguished, the face good 
and regular, if not handsome. You woidd take the subject, if in the 
ordinary costume of our own day, to be a man of consequence and of 
high fashion, and somewhat of a free liver. It resembles much the 
picture of Cosmo Jby Bronzino, in the Pitti, not merely in feature but 
in the style of the head. In this latter picture, by the by, the expres- 
sion of Cosmo is not wliat one would have anticipated from his char- 
acter, but is positively good, as well as amiable, and highly intellec- 
tual. 

Another bust-portrait of Francis, by Bronzino, is in the Pitti Gal- 
lery. The head large and intellectual, with great breadth and height 
of forehead ; eyes somewhat stern ; lips well-formed and full, and 
perhaps sensual ; nose, good ; the face oval. 

In the same Gallery again (I speak of course of the engraved col- 
lection) is a portrait which is only supposed to be that of Bianca 
Capello. This also is by Bronzino. There is the same Avant of oval in 
the face as mars the one given by Count Litta ; the forehead is very 
high, but not so broad, nor are the eyebrows so long. The nose is 
heavy, but regular, the mouth well-formed. The style of the face cor- 
responds to what I have ascribed to the other. In the explanation of 
the Plate (29th of the Gallery : T.i/i.), we are told: "Nous avonsun autre 
portrait de Blanche par le Titien^ qui est tres-different de ^elui-ci, et la 
gravure, due au burin de F. Clerici, en a ete publiee par A. Locatelli, edi- 
teur (Hel'lconographie ItaUcnne cles homines et des femmes illustres.{i) 

liis helmet, the other on bis favorite dog. This id the picture that best reminds me 
of Yarchi's repeated eulogies ; but, considering Titian's mastery in portraiture, 
this, which differs ■widely from his, may be sujiposed to be no true likeness. 

(4) After my death, when my countrymen may condescend to read these dramas, 
I hope that some one interested in their publication will procure this work of Loca- 
telli's, and, if the picture be as fine as represented, which may be supposed, being 
"by Titian and of a woman, cause a careful copy to be taken for the play. I should 
<lo this now myself, and make the copj- with my own hand, but my limited means 



APPENDIX IIT. 417 



Le Titien V a representee dans toute sa beante ; beante que Botta 
liesite a appelcr angeliquc ou diabolique. Tout indique que ce por- 
trait fut fait par le Titien encore jeune, car on sait qu' a, ses debuts il 
soignait extrememeut ses ouvrages. II n"avait pas encore acquis- 
cette liabilete, cette franchise de pinceau, qui ne suftraient pas de 
retouclie, comme on le remarque dans ses dernieres productions. (5) 

" Ce que nous disons Tient a I'appui de Topinion de ceux qui pen- 
sent que c'est la la Blanche Cappello de Bronzino, quoique les deux 
portraits n'aient presque pas do ressemblance entre eux.(O) Titien 

are exhausted iu the manufacture of these volumes, for which I have difficulty in- 
finding, not readers merely, but even a publisher. 

(5) This is a positive error, and a very curious one. Titian was born iu 1477, 
and died, as the writer himself says, in 1576, being then in his hundreth year. 
Bianca, we have seen, left Venice in 15G3 ; consequently, when Titian was eighty- 
six years old. If painted two years before her flight, when we may suppose her to 
have been at most sixteen, he was then eighty-four. 

The error is enhanced by what the writer says of the retonchlKg, although the 
passage is obscure in its construction and contradictory. Titian, or I am deceived, 
never gave up entirely, notwithstanding his temporary change of manner, that 
frequent manipulation which in itself alone would distinguish his handling from 
that of Rubens even were not the results and the general effect so different in the 
two chief colorists. This i^unctiliousness, this going over and over again, to bring 
the part up or down to the tone required, and to educe that harmony which is 
so undefinable and yet so sensible, was in fact a part of his method, and not 
mei'ely the derived habit of his school, whose master was Bellini. (a) 

(6) This difference in poi traits is another, though a minor one of the perplex- 
ities of history. We scarcely find two pictures of any eminent person done by 
different hands, that are precisely alike. Sometimes the divergence is so great 
that no trace of resemblance can be found betw^een them. The likenesses of 
Eianca Capello, if we include even that by Titian, do not probably differ from one 
another so much as the two of Mary Stuart given by Alberi in his Life of Catharine 

(a) It was wliile this play vras going through the press, that news came of the destruction by fire of Titian's 
masterpiece, the Peter Martyr, a worii which even Haydon, when denying ideality to ttie Venetian school of 
color, expressly excepted. It is an event that I wish, for my own satisfaction, to thus cnronicle, though wilh 
a feeling of pain that will have been shared by all the artist-world. 

18* 



418 BIANCA CAPELLO 



mourut en 157(j, et la Duchesse en 15S7. Le portrait qn' il nous en a 
clonue inclique une jeune fllle cle moins cle vingtans, et c'est une oeuvre 
d' une perfection exquise. Bronzino, au contraire, nous presente celte 
femrae celebre deja sur le retour. * * * Dans le tableau cle Vecel- 
lio, la coiffure et le vetement sont cle Venise, tanclis que les accessoires 
dans le portrait de Bronzino ont uu caractere florentin, ce quelque 
chose d' espagnol qui au XVI* siecle se repandait dans toute 
ritalie."(7) 

It is easy to see, even from this evidently defective portrait of 
Bianca on the wane, that she must have been, in the high day of her 
attractions, as I judged by the picture in Litta's plates, one of those 
blondes, whose flesh is rather soft than firm, but excpiisitely line of 
surface, and in which the red and white, red of the brightest and 
•white of the purest, are so commingled, without the skin's appearing 

ofMeflicl. The one from the Orleans Gallery is fat, voluptuous, heavy in tho 
nose, bad in the mouth ; and we should have to Jook long to find out a point of 
similarity between the picture of Catharine herself (when Regent), as given from 
the Florentine Gallery, and the very attractive one, as Queen, which precudes the 
title and is after Allori. 

The portrait of a beautiful woman will be more or less beautiful, according to 
the circumstances, with ht'rself and with the painter, under whicli it was taken. 
That, which at one time and with a certain pencil comes out embellished, is at 
another time and by another hand di-figured. The sun himself, or his apprentices, 
distort, and everybody knows how photographs may libel. It must be accepted 
that when History is single-voiced in attesting to the charms of any noted person- 
age, and the effects ascribed to them corroborate the testimony, that picture, which, 
with all allowance made for the anticipation of the imagination, so certain to pre- 
pare for us disappointment, is positively ugly, or without attractiveness, has been 
itself a failure, not the subject of it over-drawn. 

(7) He need not have confined it to Italy. It was the court-fashion of the time. 
We see the high and ample ruff in the portraits of Mary of Scots and of Elizabeth 
of England. In the one of the former that is particularized in the previous note, 
it is of the most preposterous description and as it were a caricature of the fashion 
\a. the supposed Bianca of Bronzino. 



ArPENDIX III. 419 



mottled, tlip.t it is difficult to say where one begins and the other ends. 
The fairness as well as fulness of the flesh is especiallj- conspicuous 
in the neck, in the hinder part of which, and behind the ears, the 
white grows captivating. Eyes of the deepest blue, large, tender or 
lively, according to the will or the emotions of the owner ; light, but 
very long lashes ; brows regularly arched, very distinct, and of a 
rather deeper brown than the hair, which latter sparkles in the sun- 
shine like threads of gold, is so fine as to be taken up by the lightest 
air, yet so thick as to show deep shadows ; nose regular, but too fleshy 
to be delicate ; a mouth well formed, — of a red, deep rather than 
bright, and dry, —the lips full and voluptuous without being sensual ; 
the chin round and fleshy, and, with the lobes of the ears, looking as 
if tempting to be pinched or pressed. Add to this, the charm of har- 
mony and softness yet brightness of colors, those manifold attractions 
which all the writers speak of and Botta seems to grow enamored of, 
and which come not only of beauty but of mind, and of the heart, 
which latter lends the Christian grace of gentleness and winning 
amiability, and we have before us that Venetian, who the Cardinal 
taught Florence to believe was subtle and perfidious, and whom 
Botta, without questioning the suspicious Archives, or following Gal- 
luzzi implicitly, knew not whether to pronounce angelical or of the 
devil 



EXD OF THE FIRST YOLUIIE. 



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